


Back To Life

by CrossedVagabond



Series: The Bombshells [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, Gang Violence, Reader-Insert, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 60,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossedVagabond/pseuds/CrossedVagabond
Summary: With the Bombshells in hiding and the Fake AH Crew disbanded, Los Santos' underground has gone to chaos. Gangs fighting for the top spot. Jail isn't ideal, but you know it won't be long until your back out there taking names and showing the city who truly rules the streets.





	1. Breaking Free

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. Almost forgot to publish the sequel! If you didn't know, this is the sequel to Silver Lining! Please go check that out before continuing to read! Thanks to everyone who commented and kudo'd the last one <3 I hope you all enjoy this one just as much as the other one :D
> 
> Thanks as well to CaptainChilly my lovely beta-reader

Maximum security prison. It was exactly how you imagined. You weren’t treated badly, but that was mostly because you kept to yourself and followed the guards’ orders. There was no point in disobeying them; no one cared about the prisoners in Los Santos. However, these people weren’t even the worst of the worst. They were the typical murderers, drug dealers, and gang members. Not even the good ones either. The fact that you were in there was almost insulting to you…but those days were behind you. You kept your head down, barely spoke to anyone, and wondered what the fastest way out of this place was.

For the most part, the other prisoners didn’t take you as a threat, and the guards were a bit more intolerant of violence against you. Mostly because of the wheelchair.

There was one woman who didn’t understand the carefully balanced situation and lipped you off. First about yourself, then about your crew, then telling everyone how you had been fucking everyone in the FAHC. When she got in your face about it, she figured out how fast you could move, and how much it hurt to have a fork in her throat.

It was a pity that the guards couldn’t stop the bleeding, really was.

With a few carefully placed threats you were left alone completely. No friends or allies, and plenty of enemies who were too scared to try anything.

You stared out at the pouring rain through the barred windows in the rec room. Some other prisoners were watching some rerun on the television but the sound was distant in your mind as you watched puddles collect in the potholed asphalt of the grounds. Life was bleak, you wanted so much more than this. Mostly, you craved just…touch. You wanted Ryan to be there, holding your hand or cradling you to his chest. You wanted Meg to be braiding your hair and trying to convince you to dye it a certain colour because you’d look amazing in it. You wanted Lindsay to be cracking a joke beside you and nudging her shoulder against yours. You wanted Jack to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she walked past. Going on hikes with Jon, and then getting foot rubs afterward when you complain about your aching feet.

The sound was muffled and faded in your ears as you thought of those you loved, focusing on your previous life. You saw people you knew in the room, people you knew in passing. Other crews mostly, some drug dealers, and people you tipped off to the police because they pissed you off.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” a voice interrupted your reminiscing. You tilted your head towards the person, eyes not leaving the window. You knew you were in the right spot, you had just gotten out of a physical therapy session and brought here by a guard.

“Why is that?”

“You’re supposed to be somewhere else, you’re needed,” the person announced, and grabbed the handles of your wheelchair. Before you could protest your disdain for people taking control of your wheelchair without your permission, he was guiding you out of the rec room. Biting down on your lip, you didn’t say anything. It was better to just accept whatever a guard told you to do than to lip off to the wrong guard. No one cared about you in here, the chances of you actually getting out and informing anyone of the abuse you faced in jail was slim and once you got out no one would care anyway. You were a criminal. No one cares about criminals.

The jail wasn’t the most wheelchair accessible place, so you were generally taken around into places where other prisoners weren’t allowed to go. However, your suspicion arose when the guard swiped his card and guided you into the loading bay. Why the hell did he take you here?

“Hold up,” another guard called out, “What is she doing here? This is a no prisoner zone, rookie.”

As the guard behind you mumbled excuses, you looked at the food truck being unloaded. One of the men jumped down from the back of the truck.

You’d know that beard and septum piercing anywhere.

“Where should we put these?” Adam called out, interrupting the conversation. He patted one of the boxes beside him, and then popped open the top, “We’ve got some vegetables and other crap.”

“I told you-”

Adam reached into the box and pulled a gun out, “What about these?”

The guard opened his mouth to call out to his partner. Adam shot the other guard, and the fake guard behind you shot the questioning one on the cheek. You felt the blood splatter against your cheek, but before you could process it, you were being hurried towards the truck. The rest of the food was quickly shoved out the back, as Adam opened the passenger side door. A gun was thrust into your hands, and you were yanked out of the wheelchair and deposited into the front seat. Adam winked at you before barking out orders.

You felt numb; the feeling of the gun resting in your palm was shocking. The cool metal, the heavyweight, the texture of the grip. You raised your fingers and brushed your knuckles against your cheek. They came away streaked with blood. When Adam climbed into the seat beside you, he handed you a tissue. “We’re going to have a car chase,” he explained, “We can’t put you in the back, there’s no seating.”

You wiped heavily at your face and snapped out of the numbness. You checked the gun over, counting the bullets in the clip. “Got distractions?”

“Yup,” he started the truck and pulled out of the bay. He took off his hat and reached under the seat. He pulled out a ski mask and rested it on his knee. “I’m pretty sure they already know what I look like, but hey, gotta take caution. Once we’re out, we’ve got someone to clear the prison tapes of our faces, but we don’t need some random bypasser taking a video of a high-speed chase.”

You grinned at him and realized that this was actually happening. They were breaking you out of jail. He drove as fast as he could without looking super suspicious towards the gates. “This would’ve been easier if we had figured out a way to strap your chair in the back. But we couldn’t make last minute adjustments on the truck; we stole it less than an hour ago. If one of their food trucks had gone missing a week ago, they would’ve been on guard.”

“Well, as long as everything goes to plan, we should be fine.”

“Since when does anything ever go to plan?” Adam asked then laughed, “It’s good to have you back. You’ve already got a reputation as the leader of SAI.”

“Without doing anything? Oh, I’m good.”

He grinned at you and then nodded his head towards the radio in the cup holder. “Can you let them know that we’re reaching the gates, and to get ready for me to hit the gas. Once you’re done, can you get on the floor? If no one finds the guards before we leave everything should be good, but our timing was off and we might get lucky and get out before shift change but...”

You picked up the radio and relayed the information, before unbuckling yourself and pulling yourself onto the floor of the truck. It was a bit awkward, but you kept your complaints to yourself. There were worse ways to be smuggled out of the prison. The prison had not yet gone into lockdown, which was good, and the guards were pretty lax. They ran through their checks, making sure no one was holding onto the bottom of the truck. Then one of the guards came up to the window to speak to Adam. His information was checked once again, and you heard the sound of the gates opening.

Holy shit, did it work?

Adam kept his passive face as he drove forwards towards the gate.

A loud alarm filled your ears, and there was a panicked shouting from the guards. Ordering Adam to stop. The prison was going into lockdown. He slammed on the gas and you cracked your chin off the bottom of the seats. You felt elation roll through your body, and then a bit of fear as he jerked the truck in one direction and your body slid with it. If he turned the other way, you risked sliding underneath his legs. “We need to lose them so we can change vehicles, and then take you to a safe house. We’ll show you the new base of operations in a month once the media stops covering your escape.”

“Do you really think they’re going to broadcast that they were so inept as to lose the leader of such a prominent gang?” you asked, yanking yourself up with a lot of effort and flopping around as he took corners more sharply than the truck could handle.

“Yup, once the media catches a whiff of it that’s all they’re going to be talking about forever, and everyone is going to have seen you somewhere.”

“Then I’ll have to change my look,” you sighed, buckling yourself in. “What time is it?”

“Uh…one thirty, why?”

“Take the train tunnels; we’ll lose the cops faster. They won’t go into the tunnels, and by the time they have anyone blocking the ends we’ll be out of it. We have five minutes to go through the tunnels before a train comes anyways.”

He looked at you like you were insane.

“Just do it.”

“I just broke you out of jail, now you’re asking me to die via suicide by train?”

“We won’t die, just go!” you ordered, “Or do you want to spend the next three hours avoiding every single cop in Los Santos?”

He muttered some choice words but guided the truck towards the train tracks. You heard an explosion a few blocks away, and gunshots in the distance. You almost wanted to ask him if it was his distraction or if the Fakes were fucking Los Santos infrastructure up again. You bite your tongue and focused solely on hoping that they didn’t change the train schedule and that if they did the truck was thin enough to fit between the walls of the tracks and the train. Otherwise….well…

You saw a helicopter in the corner of your eye, but soon the walls of the train tracks blocked out the sky and you felt a tension growing in your stomach. Adam’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he floors it through the tracks. You wished that your life was on film, you had never done this before in a truck, only by motorcycle, and only once. Now, you just prayed that you were right and LSPD was still stupid enough to not figure out what you were doing.  Adam muttered something under his breath that sounded like a goodbye, and you subconsciously gripped the door grip.

You saw the lights of an oncoming train around the corner and you swore. He wasn’t going to make it; this was it, after all the careful planning you fucked them all over. Your rescue would be for nothing, and the world would be a better place without all of you there. You close your eyes tightly; you didn’t want to see it coming.

Adam yelled, and you heard the scrape of metal on metal, but the vehicle didn’t stop.

You opened your eyes and saw the open spaces ahead of you and the train tunnels receding in the side mirrors. A sound akin to a sob burst from your body and you released your grip on the door handle. Adam was laughing, and you soon joined in. Tears forming in your eyes.

“We made it!” he cried loudly, “We fucking- we fucking did it. You are insane.”

You wiped at your eyes with your knuckles, “You did it,” you punched his shoulder lightly; “You deserve a raise.”

“We’re not getting paid for this,” he reminded you, his tone light and jovial. “Now, let’s get you to a safe house and get the boys a stiff drink.”


	2. This Old Town

Months had passed by the time anything actually happened. The news feeds slowly dropped the story of your escape and the police decided to focus their efforts on more pressing matters. New petty gangs going against each other in the ghettos, the wharf, downtown, well…really everywhere. After all, it was Los Santos. There would never not be gang wars. The police just had to work on decreasing the civilian causalities. Not that they would, they caused more than the gangs did.

After the initial heat had died down, you had done a complete overhaul of your look. Your hair was a completely different colour, the length was the extreme opposite of what it was before. You were forced to take up a different wardrobe, nothing like before. One of your crew members used to be a makeup artist, he taught you a different way to do your makeup. It wouldn’t completely change how your face looked, but someone just glancing at you wouldn’t instantly make the connection between the criminal on the news and a random person on the street. On top of that, you had to also wear coloured contacts.

You were in your complete disguise for the first time. Adam was taking you from the safe house where you had wallowed for the past few months to your new base of operations. Honestly, you didn’t care too much where your base was, it never mattered. It could be a small apartment or a huge warehouse. All that mattered was that it was discrete and that it was reasonably accessible from most places in the city. If it took extra time to get to because of some bullshit, you would nix the location.

When he pulled up to a club in the sleazier side of downtown Los Santos, you closed your eyes and exhaled softly. “A club?”

“Yup,” he unbuckled his seat belt and then pointed towards the entrance, “Griffon and Joel both recommend it. If you want to hear rumors, that’s where you want to be. The drunker people are, the looser their lips.”

“Yes, drunk people tend to talk…and they might end up leaving the club and whispering rumors at other clubs about a crew whose leader is confined to a wheelchair and who looks suspiciously like the old leader of the Bombshells,” you retorted, shaking your head.

“The great thing about this place? There’s a back garage, no one will ever see you come or go besides crew members,” Adam explained, putting the vehicle back into drive and turning into an alley beside the club. True to his word, he pulled into a garage and the heavy metal door closed behind them. At first, you were very underwhelmed, he got out and helped you into your wheelchair. The garage was simply that, a large, fairly empty, cement room with space for a couple different vehicles. There were a few boxes labeled with different alcohol brands and fragile stickers. There was a garbage bin by the door that was getting full by the look of it.

He took you to the door and opened it. It led into a short hallway. There was an elevator to the left, and to the right was a staircase. The elevator needed a key to access the panel. Adam handed you a copy of the key before he inserted another and the buttons lit up. “The club is that way,” he pointed down the hallway to the only other door. “You need another key to access that door, it leads into the kitchen. The door looks just like an extra freezer. Locked up tight. There’s another hallway that leads straight to the garage from the kitchen, as well as a staff room for those who work the club.”

He pushed you into the elevator and hit the second-floor button. There was also a basement button, and when questioned about it, Adam’s face went serious. “That’s for emergencies. It’s a safe room. Accessible by this elevator and a hallway that leads to the subway system. The elevator is on a separate generator than the club, it will always have power, even if someone manages to cut the power to the club, as well as the backup generators. When we were working on renovating the club, I made sure that was how the elevator worked. As long as you’re confined to the wheelchair, we need to have a way to get you out if shit hits the fan.”

You kept your mouth shut, even if you had a million things to say about that. Both positive and negative.

The elevator doors open and you are much more impressed than you were before. In front of you was a lounge, it looked both trendy and comfortable. A sense of bitter nostalgia washed over you as you realized that it was incredibly similar to how the FAHC penthouse had been laid out. A kitchen off to the side and everything. You wondered if there were even bedrooms, but as he wheeled you around you quickly realized there wasn’t. The only doors led to a washroom and to an office which was where Adam took you next. The office had a large window off to the left that looked down to the club. It had two couches facing each other and a large desk with three monitors atop it. Behind it was items from the Bombshells old crew base, as well as some things from the FAHC penthouse. Including something that made your heart leap in your throat.

A skull mask, covered with dried blood, sat behind one of the glass cases.

“That was recovered from the penthouse when we purchased it. The landlord didn’t want to be the one to gut the place just in case he incurred the wrath of the FAHC ‘when they come back,’” Adam explained when he caught you staring. You tore your eyes away immediately, looking instead towards the club for the first time. It was high class, and Adam explained that he had been gathering the names of all of Los Santos’ current underground, but with such a high-end club there was interest from the public as well. Famous people, people who threw around those famous people’s names, and others who would pay a pretty penny to rub shoulders with the rich and dangerous of Los Santos.  “Is it good?”

“I will admit that it is,” you looked up at him, “I do want another couch in here, as well as a television mounted on the wall over there,” you pointed behind the couches at a blank spot on the wall. “If this is our base, this room needs to be able to hold crew meetings. This room is too big to be just for me.”

You moved behind the desk once again, touching the mouse lightly with your fingertips. You had hesitations with this entire situation. You weren’t exactly in peak physical shape, nor were you exactly as acutely aware of your surroundings as you had been before. Most of the time you zoned out for hours at a time or at least until a guard would come and take you to wherever it was that you were supposed to be next. With a sigh, you remove your fingers from the mouse and look towards the window overlooking the bar. Adam cleared his throat, and you turned your attention back to him.

“There are two options for sleep arrangements,” Adam pulled out a key from his pocket, “You can stay at the Fakes old penthouse, or you can figure out your own thing. You can stay at my place tonight if you want to do the latter. My girlfriend already offered to house you for a while if you need it.”

Your eyebrow quirked, “But you aren’t offering? I am hurt, do you not want me interrupting you and your girlfriends private time?”

He laughed, “We’ve had plenty of private time,” he waved the key, “So, what’s it gonna be?”

You hesitated, part of you wanted to take the key and find Ryan’s old apartment…see if there was anything of his still there. However, you didn’t want to feel that pain of seeing an empty apartment. You had seen too many empty apartments to want to submit yourself to that again.

“I’ll stay with you, just for the night. I’ll find something else in the morning, and if I can’t well I’m sure we can find a place to put a hidden bed in here,” you joked, and went to move back around the desk.

“Alright, let’s get out of here then,” he tucked the key back into his pocket, “What do you want to do with the penthouse?”

“Keep it, for now, we can use it as a safe house…did you get rid of the medical supplies?”

“No, we just cleared out the penthouse, the other rooms are still technically owned by the individual crew members. The cameras are unreliable, we know they’ve been tampered with, so we don’t know if the crew members are still using them or not, and I don’t want to be the one who goes into the Vagabond’s room and touches his things.”

You snorted, Ryan would more likely be pissed if someone knocked over one of his potted cacti rather than if someone just poked at his shit. Still, you were glad that they hadn’t messed with the crews shit. Though, if they wanted their stuff back, they would’ve gotten everything that they needed when they broke apart. Anything left in those rooms would be basic shit that was of little importance.

Either way, you couldn’t bear to go to the penthouse…not yet. You didn’t know when you would ever be able to go back. The thought of bumping into any of the Fakes made your heart beat quicker…and you didn’t know if that was a good feeling or not.


	3. Lady SAI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to upload last Saturday and the previous Saturday I had to attend a funeral, so sorry for the late upload!

Adam got you into rehabilitation for your legs, got a second opinion from another doctor, and had been vigorously on your ass about exercising and proper diet. An entire year had passed since you had gotten out of prison, and you were able to stand for ten minutes before your hip started aching, and twenty minutes before your hip gave out. All in all, you were proud of your progress. Besides that, Joel had been teaching you the fine art of disguises. Not just dressing the part, by changing how you ached. He was surprisingly a good actor. He normally looked like a stoner, but in an instant, he could appear to be a high-class businessman, who had never worked a hard day of his life. Or a suburban dad. He could hide in complete view, and he taught you the subtle movements and being aware of your body when playing a part.

Griffon helped you with defensive work that put less strain on your hips.

Winter was a nightmare, you were stiff and sore, and you were constantly getting a cough from the cold air mixing painfully with your scarred lungs. You were in bed most of the time, but you didn’t waste time. You pulled every damn piece of information about the current state of the power struggle the city was facing without the Fakes. You learn to code, and learned the basics of hacking. If you were going to be stuck behind a computer most of the day, you wanted to do something with the time.

Of course, when the summer came, your skin always felt tight around your scars. You weren’t ever comfortable anymore, you quickly discovered.

“Have you seen the price of gold?” Joel asked you glanced up at the computer, but thankfully he was talking in a general sense so you weren’t obligated to answer. Your attention returned back to the computer, and you propped up your head up with your hand. You were scanning the headlines for today, the news quietly playing off to the side. Loud enough that you occasionally looked over if a certain word caught your attention but not loud enough to cause much of a distraction. Though, that wasn’t the full reason.

You glanced at the screen, seeing Jon’s smiling face as he talked about a feel-good story. He was doing well. You were happy for him. You weren’t paying attention to the story until a familiar name caught your attention.

“…Caiti Ward. The shelter has been running on pure donations since its founding two years ago. We have-”

You stopped listening, catching the name of the shelter at the bottom of the screen and Google’d it quickly. It was almost exactly what you would’ve thought Caiti to have done with the millions of dollars she had gotten while working in your crew. She had started it a few months after your death. It was a woman’s shelter, and you were plenty aware of how desperately Los Santos needed a good one. You had once gone to the old shelter when you were younger, shortly after Geoff and Jack absconded Los Santos. It was awful, you never felt safe in there, the male volunteers always seemed predatory. You knew that Caiti would never put up with that, and any proceeds would go straight to the women she was helping.

Griffon got up from the sofa beside Joel and walked over to the desk. You tore your eyes away from the screen after a moment to meet hers.

“We can make a quick visit,” she spoke quietly, picking up a random paperweight off your desk and turning it over in her hand. “You’ll need to get in disguise, but we could visit.”

You didn’t want to know how she knew what you were thinking, it was probably written on your face.

“There are a lot of people who would want to hurt you,” Griffon murmured, “A lot of the old Kingpins who for some reason were actually loyal to the old asshole, for example. It’s better to surround yourself with your friends, even if she’s not in the thick of things anymore; she’s a strong ally to have. She’s got resources, she and Jack moved in together six months ago as well. She could help you find the rest of the fakes, and from there, your old crew.”

“I know where most of my old crew is,” you replied after a moment of silence. You rubbed your mouth lightly, “They’re living their lives now, and I’m not going to bring them back into this. Jon is a popular reporter, Caiti is making the world a better place, Meg is modelling though I’ve heard rumors of Dollface still making a ruckus every once in a while…Lindsay and Jeremy have disappeared. If I knew where Michael it wouldn’t be long till I figured out where Lindsay was…and asking Meg where Jeremy is could solve that mystery easily.”

“You talking to them won’t put them in any more danger than they already are,” Joel piped up, and you looked over to see him and Adam turned slightly towards you, but it was clear they were about to leave. “But, you already knew that,” he added in a lighter tone. “We’re heading out.”

You jerked your head slightly down in a hesitant nod. The two men exited swiftly, and you were left alone with Griffon.

Within the hour you were outside of the LS Women’s Shelter. Your heart was beating unbearably loudly in your ear, and you couldn’t even move your arms enough to grab the wheels to stop Griffon from pushing you onwards. You had seen pictures and heard about them…but to actually have the chance to see one of them in the flesh, to be able to hear their voice? It was terrifying, and you almost wanted to tell Griffon to get you the hell out of there….but you were already there.

Griffon left you just inside the door and went up to talk to the woman at the front desk. You zoned out, so concentrated on the slowly growing panic that you didn’t register the time or the fact that Griffon came back and said something to you. It wasn’t until she left the building that you snapped out of it. You glanced around, catching your appearance in the mirror. You looked so different that for a moment you didn’t even believe it was you.

There was the sound of heels on the linoleum flooring approaching you, and you turned your head towards the noise. For a brief second, all the air left your lungs. Your vision swam. Then you were brought heavily back into yourself as Jack kissed Caiti’s cheek, smiled at her and then walked right past you with nothing more than a vaguely friendly smile.

You stared at Jack for the longest time, watching her head to her favourite car and climb in.

It almost hurt that she didn’t recognize you, and if you hadn’t been in disguise it would’ve been a punch to the gut.

Your attention was torn away from the woman when a hand touched your shoulder. You glanced over sharply.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startl-” Caiti stopped dead in her sentence, staring down at you. Her mouth was agape, and she didn’t move for a good ten seconds. Then she blinked rapidly, “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she repeated, giving you a dazzling smile. “I’m Caiti Ward,” she produced to ask if you were the pseudonym that Griffon assigned for the day, to which you nodded. “Good! If you’ll follow me, we can talk business in my office. I’m always happy when companies want to support the shelter and give our resources to their employees.”

You zapped out of your frozen state and guided the wheelchair in the direction that Caiti waved to. “It’s high time Los Santos got a reputable Woman’s Shelter,” you replied, your voice softer than you meant it to be.

You heard her footsteps falter, and neither of you spoke the rest of the way. Caiti opened the door and allowed you to enter first.

Her office was very welcoming, there was a desk, but it was pushed against the wall, and the central focus was a sitting area with large comfy sofas. There was a small kitchenette, and everything was warm and inviting. You remembered some of the offices at the old women’s shelter had always seemed so cold and sharp, and you had always wondered how soothed the other women were coming in to escape an abusive relationship.

If you hadn’t been so busy paying attention to the decor you would’ve heard Caiti whisper your name, your real name. When she repeated it a second time a bit louder, your head whipped around hard enough to send a jolt of pain through your neck. You swore, reaching up and gripping your neck as Caiti’s hands flew to her mouth and tears sprung to the surface.

“No,” she whispered moving closer, “No…you’re dead…you can’t be her.”

“Caiti-”

She moved closer, hands shaking and touching your wig. Her fingers rubbed the strands, and when she removed them they were shaking. You reached up and gently clasped your fingers around hers. In that instant, the tears erupted and she sobbed. She fell to her knees, pressing your clasped hands against her cheek. Your vision blurred and you bent over her, enveloping her in your arms. She released your hand and clutched to you. Sobbing into your shoulder. Fingernails digging into your back and she held you. Neither of you let go, holding onto each other like you’d crumble if you dared to let go.

Eventually, tears subsided, and you got her into a chair, and you sat in front of her with your knees touching.

“Why’d you come in disguise?” she asked, her voice thick with tears, “Why the secrecy?”

You let out a light laugh, staring at your hands, “I’m kind of disappointed that my disguise didn’t work…but I wore it because I didn’t know if I could go through with it or not…you’ve got a new life. I’ve changed, and you’ve changed…I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

Caiti snorted, “Of course I’d want to see you. You’re my friend…and I was devastated when they declared you dead…though they never found a body, so I never gave up hope that you were alive out there somewhere,” she grabbed your hand and held it tight. “I would never give up on you….but what happened?”

You explained every little detail to her, and she took it all in with all the right expressions and responses. You found yourself more relaxed than you had been…well since before you went to prison. Such familiarity was comforting, and you felt yourself even feeling marginally less sore and achy just by sitting there with her.

“Do…do you still talk to the others?” you asked, your voice small and quiet.

“Oh…of course,” she nodded, “Jon and I get coffee all the time, he interviewed me when I first opened the shelter. Meg and I were in a photo shoot back before I opened the shelter together…she’s…not alright. She disappears for months on end…and when she disappears Dollface and the Vagabond appear, and the city doesn’t sleep well.”

Your throat got tight at the mention of Ryan. “And…Ryan?”

Caiti’s eyes soften, but then she quickly looked away, her fingers finding yours and squeezing them, “Meg is the only one who sees him anymore…she says he is fine for a few weeks and then he’ll snap. She is able to focus his murderous outbursts against a common enemy instead of whoever looks at him wrong. She’s trying to find the last of the Kingpins…hoping that if Ryan sees them all dead then he’ll be okay again and be able to move on. I think you should tell the others you’re back.”

“I will,” you responded immediately, “I just…not yet…not when I’m like this.”

“Like…what?” Caiti asked, eyebrows furrowing. When you patted your wheelchair, her eyes widened, “Oh…I thought that was a prop.”

“It…sort of is, I can walk fine most of the time…but for those days I can’t…I’m confined to this chair.”

“They won’t care, they’ll just be glad you’re alive, that you’re back,” she insisted, tightening her grip on your hand.

“Just…not yet, please,” you begged.

“Alright,” Caiti sighed, looking down at your intertwined fingers, “Now…correct me if I’m wrong…but are you Lady SAI?”

“Lady SAI?”

She laughed, “Jack mentioned a new player in the game, a mysterious woman who controls the SAI Crew? You remember how it is, people just give you a name and you roll with it. Did you make the crew name this time?”

You gave a light laugh, “Yeah…something Geoff said offhandedly one night. What he wished his crew had been named. Savage Animal Idiots.”

Caiti burst out laughing, covering her mouth quickly to stifle the sound. “You’re kidding?”

You shook your head and she laughed harder, you felt yourself start to smile and soon you were laughing along with her. She said your name with a shake of her head, “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s better than the Bombshells.”

She released your hands with a half laugh, “Much better. But…either way. I’m glad you’re back…and if you’re back, so am I.”

“What do you mean?”

She walked over to the window of her office and then took a deep breath. “Someone needs to make sure you’re not running head first into trouble,” she turned around, a smile on her face, “I want in.”

“No. No, absolutely not.” You waved your hand around the room, and said, “You’ve got this place, you can’t-”

“Yes I can,” she shot back calmly, “and I will. We…I…felt like we gave up too soon on you. We should’ve looked harder…we should’ve found you.”

“I was in prison,” you murmured and her eyes widened.

“We searched the prison for you, under all of your aliases,” she exclaimed. You saw the shock on her face, and she shook her head slowly, “How did we miss that?”

“Seems like Los Santos has gotten smart…only the higher-ups knew who I was cus they put me under a false alias that I had never used before. Didn’t want word getting out that I was alive and in jail, I assumed,” you grumbled, “Griffon knew who I was, and my new crew broke me out a couple weeks ago.”

Before she could respond her phone went off and she quickly checked it, “I’m so sorry…but I have appointments I need to get to. We’ll catch up, here’s my number,” she grabbed one of her business cards and scribbled another number down on it. “I’m sorry we didn’t find you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved your hand and took the card from her. She gave you a sad smile, the unspoken words lingering in the air. You thought I was dead anyway. Caiti’s reaction was good…great even, to find out you were still alive…but that was only one person and she had always looked on the positive side of things…you couldn’t even imagine some of the others reactions. It did soften the terror in your heart even the slightest amount. “I’ll pop you a message…and if you are serious about joining the crew…I’ll give you the grand tour of my new place.”

“Sounds lovely,” she walked over and bent down to pull you into a hug. “I missed you so much…”

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

You felt less alone in the world even as she left the room telling you that she’d get the receptionist to send in Griffon when she came to pick you up. The weight on your shoulders lifted just a bit.


	4. Catching Up

Your brow furrowed as you read the newest report on Team Free Slay. Three murders in two weeks. All ex-members of the Kingpins. Of course the media didn’t know that, and apparently neither did the police. Apparently, they couldn’t find anything to relate each of the murders to the other one, besides the calling card of the two. Not that the police released that information, of course, they just said that there were similarities to the murders. You switched over to the other reports. The Fakes had officially disbanded according to the news outlets, and it almost, almost, disgusted you how the media treated the major criminals like celebrities. Of course, they didn’t have actual legit photos of these criminals but if someone got the scoop that the Fakes had split up, it would definitely be plastered on every single news source in the city.

There was no news about Jeremy or Lindsay, nothing. In the news or the underground.

Caiti placed her hand on the desk beside your mouse, you glanced up to see her eyes flicking through the different reports displayed on the monitors.

“You could’ve just asked,” she said quietly, “I can tell you what you want to know…I’m still connected with them all.”

You leaned back in your chair, inhaling deeply. Then you nodded. You needed to know, even if you weren’t going to contact them immediately. You needed to know that they were all safe.

Caiti walked away from you and over to the couches, she waved you over and you followed obediently.

“Who do you want to know of first?”

“I have nothing on Jeremy and Lindsay…are they…” you trailed off, they weren’t dead…you were certain of that. If they had died you would’ve found something, Caiti would’ve already mentioned that. You would’ve found out months ago. There would’ve been news about that.

“They’re not dead,” Caiti said quickly, “Lindsay…Lindsay got engaged to Michael and joined the Fakes,” she explained and then pulled out her phone. “They got engagement photos done,” she said excitedly and showed you the photos on her phone. Lindsay looked so happy and beautiful, and Michael looked so in love and calm in the photos…you nearly started to cry. You were so happy for your best friend.

“When’s the wedding?” you asked, barely able to pry your eyes from the photos.

“They don’t have an exact date yet, there’s a lot going on with the Fakes right now so they’ve put the wedding on the back burner,” Caiti took the phone back from you when you offered it to her. She sighed, “Lindsay…she’s the leader of the Fakes now. Though no one knows, Geoff is still the figurehead, but he’s been out of the picture for a while. He’s turned into a reclusive drunk according to Jack, and he refuses to see most of his old crew. Especially Ryan…who kinda threatened to kill Geoff if he ever saw him again.”

You weren’t surprised, but you felt guilty. Geoff would be one of the first people you contacted you decided…after you found Ryan again. He deserved to know you were alive, so he wouldn’t blame himself for your death. You didn’t mean to cause such a big rift between the Fakes. “What about Jeremy?”

“Since…since Ray’s death…there was a position for a sniper, and since Ryan doesn’t work for the Fakes anymore…he took over both of their positions in the crew. He’s happy, but there are times when he looks so tired but he won’t talk to anyone about it. Not even Lindsay or Meg. He’s…very methodical now and barely socializes with us unless it’s for crew business. I managed to get him out for coffee the other day but he only stayed long enough for a single drink and then he left.”

You dropped your gaze to the floor. That was such a stark difference between the two. Lindsay was carving her way forwards, building her life up to more than it had been with the Bombshells. While Jeremy had become the exact opposite of himself, and that was not an improvement in the slightest. If you could go back, you wouldn’t have run off with Geoff to confront Diamond. You would’ve gotten the crews to work together…to find out a way to kill Diamond altogether. Maybe you wouldn’t have died…but someone else could’ve gotten hurt instead and that made you so conflicted about the situation. You wrung your hands together and then met Caiti’s eyes.

“What about the BTS crew?”

“Some went to work for the Fakes, others went to smaller crews, some became information brokers or hitmen. It really depends, they’re all happy though, even though they are sad that you- well that you died.”

Caiti went on to tell you how Gavin stayed with the Fakes, and how he and Meg were dating and a strong couple. Though, since your passing his reputation had become darker, the Golden Boy. Severely underestimated when people see him, but was more ruthless when crossed than even Ryan, and that was saying something. Caiti assured you that it was less because of your passing and more to do with the fact that his crew had disbanded and he was trying to protect his family now. You questioned her about her wording. His family was his old crew, the people he loved and would fight tooth and nail for.

Jack was ‘retired’ from the game, but she wasn’t at all. She just was more of a behind the scenes kind of gal now, planning and research more than anything. Caiti explained how they got together, a long romantic tale of finding comfort in each other and then realizing that the friendship they had was more than friendship and then one thing led to another. You were surprised, you had assumed that Jack and Geoff secretly were together, after all, they were always together and had been for years. Even if Geoff had a thing for Griffon. You had just assumed. You were happy for both of them, Caiti seemed happy, and talking about Jack she just seemed ecstatic but calm at the same time. Just at ease and completely enthralled by her girlfriend.

“But, enough of that,” she said, her cheeks glowing red. “You obviously know about Jon, he’s the main news anchor of the news, he’s out of the game as well…well mostly.”

“Yeah, I watch the news every morning just to make sure he’s safe,” you admitted, “The day he takes a sick day I’m going to freak out.”

She laughed, “Don’t worry, he’s got the protection of the Fakes. As do I, and every other ex-Bombshell and ex-Fake.”

You were glad to hear that.

Of course, you felt your chest tighten, and you adjusted yourself in your chair. “What…what about…”

“Meg is a model now,” Caiti started, you could hear the hesitation in her voice but then she swallowed and looked away. “But…you’re asking about Ryan.”

“I know I asked the other day but you kind of diverted the conversation,” you pointed out, “How…how is he? Besides the obvious.” You pursed your lips together, feeling anxious to hear the answer, but panic about hearing the answer just the same. You knew what she was going to say but you needed to hear it from someone who knew.

“Awful. I don’t know too much? He’s reclusive as Geoff is, to all but Meg. He was heartbroken,” she whispered, “Absolutely heartbroken…we found the ship and the tape of you…of you,” you saw tears forming in her eyes and you took her hand in yours. You frowned, you had no idea what she was talking about. “The tape of you being shot and falling off the boat. He…he made Diamonds face a bloody pulp and cried. I think that was the most terrified any of us were in that moment…there was a parade a few weeks later and he shot up the place hoping to be imprisoned or murdered but we got him out of there. Meg stood up to him, threatened his ass and told him off for what he had done. She asked him if you would have been proud of what he did. They fought for an hour before he finally left and Team Free Slay started up a few weeks later. They’re good together…she can soothe his anger.”

You didn’t know how to respond, and the silence stretched on for a few minutes after Caiti finished.

You felt almost empty, and that slowly changed to overwhelming sadness. “Thank you,” you murmured, “but I think I need to process this a bit.”

Caiti’s mouth opened as if she wanted to say more but then she closed it and she reached over and squeezed your shoulder, “Sure. I need to go get ready for a date with Jack, let me know if you need anything. Alright?”

“I’m alright,” you lied, “but thank you.”

You watched as she left, and the moment the door was closed, you placed your face in your hands and allowed yourself to cry for your friends. Cry for what you had done to them. The pain you caused them. The pain you caused Ryan.

You loved him, and you made him become…become a killer. More so than he was before.

That left a bitter taste in your mouth that you wouldn’t be able to escape from for weeks.


	5. Power Struggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait. I got realllllly unmotivated to write. Imma try to write as much for my two fanfics as I can over the next little bit so you won't be as starved for updates.
> 
> Also! Does anyone know any good FAHC-esque songs? I'm going to make myself a playlist for when I'm writing.

The thrum of bass was barely noticeable from the soundproofed office. You were glad for it, a headache beginning to form at the back of your skull. Adam was chatting quietly with Caiti as she stared over the swarm of bodies down below. Adam had an earpiece in and would randomly turn away and murmur something into the microphone. Caiti found excuses to come to the bar, saying that she was working closely with the owner to test anti-drug products to minimize people getting drugged while at bars. Which she was, and that was not a lie. Adam and his security team also made sure to pay close attention to people coming up to the bar. If they suspected someone had drugged one of the cups they would make sure that the drink never ends up in someone’s stomach. Depending on how sneaky the person was, that meant anything from direct confrontation or getting a bouncer to ‘bump’ into the person hard enough that they drop the drugged drink, then offering to get them a new one and delivering it personally to the recipient.

The offending party would typically find themselves with a threatening call or email the next day handwritten by you about releasing their information to the police, or even a personal visit should they ever dare try that shit again.

You weeded out a few such assholes so far.

Right now, you were too preoccupied with conversing with a contact about Spades. Somehow Ryan and Meg had not yet found the man and killed him, even though you were sure that they had been hounding him since you had nearly died. If they couldn’t find him, you were sure you couldn’t either…but you still tried. It had almost become an obsession at this point if you weren’t looking up information about the rest of the crew you were too busy buying and trading information for anything on Diamond’s second-hand asshole.

Adam called your name curtly, the tone dragging you instantly out of the conversation. You told your contact you would call back at a later time, promising to DM them the time you’d phone at, before hanging up.

“You won’t need to phone him back,” Caiti wrapped her arms around her stomach, eyes pinned on something down below.

“Spades is here,” Adam explained, lifting the mic up to his mouth. He started giving orders for your crew to keep an eye on Spades. Also telling Griffon and Joel to come up to your office.

“Have someone pin a tracker onto him,” you ordered, getting up and feeling your hip momentarily give out. Neither of them noticed that you had to use the desk to support yourself for a moment before you could stride over to them. “What’s he doing here?”

You watched as Spades sauntered over to the bar where Griffon was downing the rest of her drink. As she pushed her glass towards the bartender, Spades tossed down a few bills and blocked off Griffon’s escape. They conversed for a moment before Griffon stood up and headed towards the back. Spades stayed where he was, waving the bartender over. Most of your new crew knew Spades, and none had a good opinion of him. Those of the Kingpins who liked him split from Adam and went with Spades when Diamond was killed. The rest stayed with Adam, and those who didn’t like the fact that you took over were quickly weeded out. Your crew would always be like a family, and you made sure to always chat up the members of your crew, no matter how insignificant their roles might seem. You would much rather have them respect and like you than fear and despise you.

Griffon opened the door to your office and quickly closed it behind her.

“Spades would like to talk to you,” she spoke so calmly it was odd. She tapped where her mic was hidden, then shrugged. She didn’t know if she was bugged or not.

You responded just as calmly, putting on a soft southern accent, “I don’t know who the hell that is.”

“He was part of the Kingpins. I think he’s the boss of a new gang,” she explained.

“Who does he think he is, wanting to speak to me without proper introductions first? A leader of an insignificant gang who probably hasn’t even made a name for itself,” you raised your voice a little. If Spades was listening, then you were going to piss him off. You sighed, “Tell him if I feel like it I’ll call him up if he doesn’t want to wait he’s free to leave and never come back to this establishment.”

Griffon nodded before leaving as quickly as she came. Once the door was shut and you heard her footsteps recede, you turned to Adam. “Is he bugged? If he starts to leave, have someone distract him. I need time to get ready. Caiti, I don’t know if he’ll recognize you, but just in case, you should leave.”

Joel entered, holding the door open for Caiti as she headed out. Adam was intently listening to whoever was relaying information to him. You checked your watch, you didn’t know how patient Spades was, or if he’d even bother staying any longer, or if he would demand to see you immediately. You didn’t even know if Spades knew who you really were if he even knew if you were alive or not. At this point, you wanted to be under the impression that he was clueless and he thought you were just a quickly rising gang leader, which was okay with you.

Adam and Joel started talking about what they were going to do if things went down the shitter. Should they kill Spades right there, did they know if he was alone for sure? You knew that the final decision was yours, and you knew that it would be impossible to kill him right then and there. Who knows how much power he had behind him truly, and how much firepower he had brought with him sitting in wait for his word or lack thereof. You knew a lot about his crew, but he had also just been building up his crew, and you knew you were holding back with how much you actually had. You didn’t want to be a target for any larger crews or powerful people. Even the LSPD didn’t have evidence of your illegal activity, nothing solid at least.

You pieced together your disguise as they bickered back and forth. You didn’t care too much about your style, but you did make yourself look five pounds heavier and a decade older. Like an aging gang leader who doesn’t truly do any of the legwork anymore, and is just a figurehead.

Griffon entered again just as you were adjusting the lace front greying wig on your head. “He has asked at least four of the bouncers if you normally take this long to decide. I think he’s egging you to speak to him faster by insulting you.”

“Tell him he’s welcome to leave at any time. Oh and tell the bartenders to water down his drinks. I’ll send for him in fifteen minutes or so. Turn away anyone else waiting to enter the club. If things get messy, I don’t want anyone else coming in. Blood is a pain to clean off floors,” you instructed, braiding the hair to fall over a shoulder before checking your appearance. “Inform him he’s not to have any weapons when he comes upstairs. For each one he has with him, I’ll break one of his fingers personally.”

Adam’s eyebrow raised. You wouldn’t actually do it yourself, that’s quite hard. However, you’d rather Spades think you’re a lot crueler than you were. Fear makes people hesitate, and if he wasn’t completely insane then you would be fine.

Griffon left with your message and a few others entered, casually lounging on the couches. Half empty drinks that you knew none of them had let pass their lips, hidden weapons on each of them in easy access. If Spades even reached to get something out of his jacket or pocket, he’d have eight people, plus yourself drawing weapons immediately. You sat down at your desk, pulling up some arbitrage stock information up. Adam poured you half a drink, going as far as to swipe the bottom with a bit of water so when he placed it down on the desk it’d leave a ring as if it had been sitting there collecting condensation at the bottom of the glass.

Fifteen minutes passed before Griffon re-entered with Spades.

You linked your fingers together and crossed your legs, hiding your clenched fingers. Every ounce of your self-control went towards not showing a single ounce of the rage you were feeling. Spade’s gaze went from you to Adam, to the group of people on the couch, and then to Joel. Finally, he chose to let his gaze rest on you once again.

“You…” he gave you a smile, “are one difficult woman to find. Lady SAI.”

“Am I?” you questioned, not caring that you sounded aggressive, “I hope I wasn’t terribly rude making you wait so long.”

His jaw clenched, but he waved his hand to the side and made a disagreeing noise. “Nah, I can see you’re entertaining,” his gaze shifted towards the group who had noticed him but had returned to their conversation about local politics. “I’m sure Griffon here, this lovely lady, introduced me as Spade?” You nodded, and the grin returned to his face, “That was the alias I went as when I was part of the Kingpins. I’m sure you heard about their war with the Fakes? How idiotic Diamond was and how he stupidly tried to take down two crews at once instead of befriending one and take down the other?”

“Yes, and how there was a manhunt for both of the crews but the LSPD is so incompetent that they only arrest ten people all of whom were nowhere near the top of the ladder. My business is to know these things. What do you go by now?”

“Slade. Not very creative I know,” he laughed, “but my strength isn’t in names. It’s in critical thinking and planning. Los Santos has been in a constant state of a power struggle between many gangs since that whole event happened. The Fakes just aren’t what they once were, and they can barely hold control over the weaker gangs anymore, the respect for them is going downhill faster than the support for the mayor of the city.”

“I am very aware of the struggle,” you snorted, “I hate small talk and dancing around topics. Get to the point. Why are you here, Slade?”

He took a step forwards and Adam straightened, dropping his hands to his side. That didn’t escape Slade’s notice, “Calm down, Clubs…or do you go by something else?”

Adam said nothing, just stayed in his semi-relaxed position. You cleared your throat, “Spade-”

“Slade,” the man interrupted sharply, he laughed to try to play it off. Ah, so he was sensitive about his reminder that he used to be secondary.

“Slade,” you corrected, tucking away that information for later, “Why are you here? If you’re just going to taunt my men, you can do that below.”

He apologized and then looks around at everyone in the room. His eyes eventually returning to rest on you, a smile on his face, “You know Geoff Ramsey? The leader of Fakes?”

“Everyone does, well, not many know him personally. Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him since he went underground,” you lied through your teeth, not betraying your curiosity to the question. Geoff was no longer the leader, or at least officially. Why would Slade want him? It would be easier to go after Lindsay or any of the others in the crew instead of going after someone who went underground. A lot easier.

“I want to put a bullet right. Between. His. Eyes.”

You heart leaped to your throat, and you could sense the immediate tension in the room. So could Slade.

“You,” you sputtered out a laugh, “Want to kill the most powerful man in Los Santos? Regardless of his current state of hiding, why would you want to?”

“The reasons are my own, but your crew is big enough and powerful enough that allied with mine…I can find the man and take care of business,” Slade reached into his pocket, and Adam pushed aside his coat and exposed his own gun. “Calm down, I’m only grabbing a card,” he pulled out a business card and extended it towards Adam. “It’s too presumptuous of me to force you to make a decision now. I’ll give you time to think of what you would like out of me, and if we can come to terms. We can ally ourselves, take down the Fakes once and for all, and rule Los Santos.”

You made no promises. He’d be dead before the end of the year, and you assumed it would take much longer to find Geoff than that.

Adam hadn’t taken the card, so Slade placed it on the table and then gave you a sickeningly sweet smile, “We could be powerful allies.” He turned and headed towards the door, you reached for your gun. You weren’t against shooting someone in the back, “Oh, before I go I want to ask-”

A gun went off.

Everyone reacted immediately, pointing their weapons at Slade. You and Adam darted towards the window overlooking the bar.

Your heart leaped into your throat for a second time.

A dark grey skull mask.

Slade curses. “That’s why you waited so long!” he accused from behind you, “You bitch! I’ll show you to try and trick me!”

You whip around just as he grabs Griffon, pulling a knife from under his clothes. You open your mouth, but before you could utter anything. Griffon twists Slade’s arm and knocks the blade out of his hand. She goes to kick his knees out. He breaks out of her grip. You grab Adam’s arm and shove him towards the two. He didn’t get two steps towards them before Griffon shoves Slade off balance and then drives her heel into his chest. Slade stumbled backward and smashed through the glass.

Fuck.

You hurry to the broken window to see him getting out of broken glass and wood. Clubgoers fleeing, emptying the place in a flurry of people.

Meg shoved her bright blue hair off her shoulder, her entire persona elegant and composed. Unlike Ryan, who was as every bit dark, dangerous, and mad as he was painted by the media. She murmured something to Ryan, but before either of them could advance on Slade, your entire crew and workers had weapons pointed at both of them. You hurry down the stairs before anything could happen. Meg wouldn’t dare let Ryan do anything stupid with that many guns pointed at them, but you weren’t sure what Slade would do.

You burst through the door, storming over to the cluster of people in the center of your club.

“You’re a slippery bastard, Spades,” Meg said, pointing a freshly manicured nail at the now bleeding and probably concussed man. You saw he was holding his chest. Probably punctured lung or broken rib by his raspy breathing. “But who cares, we’ve got you now. Vagabond can finally get his revenge.”

Slade spat, “What? For murdering his girlfriend? I bet she’s fed the fishes well, the sharks would’ve torn her apart long before you lot got to the boat.”

You saw Meg’s reaction, tears forming in her eyes.

You took the gun from Adam’s holster, but before you could get a shot off, Slade noticed and dodged. Ryan moved, but Meg stopped him. You said nothing as you fired, getting more frustrated when Slade managed to dodge the bullets. Finally, you threw the empty gun on the floor.

“Whoever kills him before he leaves the club gets a half a mil,” you shouted, and your crew all turned on the man instantly.

Whether it was pure dumb luck or your crew were shit shooters, Slade managed to dodge out the back door and get away with his life.

You stood staring after him. Adam walked up to you, but you whirled on Meg and Ryan. “Why?” you snarled, “I almost had him!”

Ryan snapped, his arm shooting out and his fingers wrapped around your throat. “You? You almost had him?” he whispered, leaning close enough you could see his eyes clearly through the mask.

“Vagabond!” Meg grabbed his arm, “Not now, we need to go and see if we can’t find where he went.”

Ryan let go, and you inhaled sharply.

Your crew didn’t let them leave at first, but you waved. “They’re not the ones who let Spades escape, but you two,” you pointed at the two men who were supposed to guard the back door. “If I ever see your faces here again? I will gut you myself when I want someone dead in my club. They cannot leave. That means guarding the doors! Now, everyone get the hell out. We’re closed for the weekend for repairs.”

When you turned around Meg and Ryan were gone, and your crew was slowly filtering out. Griffon, Adam, and Joel stayed, and when you took a step your hip gave out and Adam caught you.

“Fuck,” you muttered, and then broke down into sobs in the wrong man’s arms.


	6. Descent

You stared at the information you had collected about Geoff’s whereabouts. Bits and pieces of fragments of information. It was like trying to grasp smoke. There seemed to be a lead and then you looked into it and it disappeared or led to nowhere. It was frustrating. You wanted to warn Geoff that Slade was going for him, and get him to some place safer where you would know where he was and whether or not Slade had gotten him.

Though, the longer you stared at the computers the more your mind wandered.

Ryan…

Why did you fuck it all up? Why did you yell at him? You could’ve just…you could’ve taken off the wig, taken out the contacts, and told him it was you. Everything would be better with him. Instead, you felt the ghost of his fingers around your neck, and the intensity and odd look in his eyes as he stared at you through the mask. A dark and looming presence. The opposite of the sweet, caring, loving man you knew.

You shook your head and looked down at the phone number Griffon had gotten you months ago. Biting your lip you shook your head. Geoff would be smarter than that, he wouldn’t keep the same number for more than a few months if he was on the run. That number was so old. So, why did you keep it? Holding onto it just in case he still had that same number? You could ask Griffon for a newer one. Hell, you could ask Griffon to hook you up with where he was. She should know. You were sure that she was low key seeing Geoff.

The computer binged as you got an email back from one of your information brokers. You opened it, skimming the contents. An old hit from years ago. Was this relevant in any way? No. However, the hit? He only recently completed it and collected nearly a million dollars. You frowned. Who kept a hit open that long? Who was it on? You requested more information, the broker was one who liked to give a bit for free and then make you pay for the rest. To show you that he has it, and normally it was very vague. Sure, you could get another information broker to look into it, but that would take the same amount of time, and you’d have to pay a fee up front first. If the broker found nothing, you didn’t get that money back.

Within a minute of transferring the money to him, you got the email back.

It was a hit ordered by Diamond. He was dead, however…how did Geoff collect money from a dead man, and why would anyone honor an old hit to the man who openly wanted to kill the old bastard?

It felt like time itself stopped

The hit was worth so much because…Diamond ordered a hit on a child. Of course, if Geoff only recently killed the child, they would be in their adult years now. Morally sound, at least in the terms of a hitman. The part that made you freeze in your seat in disbelief.

The hit was on you.

Geoff had accepted a hit on the little five-year-old girl that his partner had adopted from homelessness. Was that secretly why Geoff had fled with Jack? He was planning on coming back and finishing you off when you were older, thinking he’d not feel as bad that he didn’t know you anymore? That…that couldn’t be true.

It was fake. It had to be. You couldn’t believe that Geoff would accept money for your death.

Some of the final words Geoff said to you floated in your memory. Tormenting you.

“You are the closest thing I will probably ever have to a daughter.”

“I just wanted to finally apologize for it. I need to apologize for it.”

“I will not let you feel abandoned again, not from me.”

How much of that was just bullshit? How much did he actually care about you? How much of it was him planning for you to get taken by Diamond? He practically delivered you to Diamond without you even blinking an eye of whether he was with you or not.

How could you have trusted him? He abandoned you. He left you alone in the world just as everyone else did. Did he let Diamond kidnap you that one time as well? Hoping that you never got out, leading the others into thinking that he was looking for you when he wasn’t? The pure fact that you escaped was just an inconvenience, all he had to do was nudge you subtly towards going alone to kill Diamond. Or, rather, going with him.

Would Adam know? Did Griffon know?

Could you trust any of the people in your crew now?

You slammed your fist onto the table.

This was bullshit!

You dove into research immediately. Ignoring attempting to find him, and purely put your energy into looking up every connection he had from the time he accepted the hit to when he collected that money. You didn’t even question who paid up the money. It didn’t matter. You wanted to know why Geoff would do this to you. To Jack. Most of all to Jack. She’d be so heartbroken and furious if she ever figured out what Geoff did. You saw red, and if Geoff was in front of you when you figured it out, he’d have a bullet between his eyes. Just like Slade wanted.

Fuck.

You didn’t want to ally with Slade, but the thought was becoming enticing. He could find Geoff, and then you could-

No. If you decided to put an end to Geoff’s life, you would find him and you would do it alone.

This was different. Geoff had destroyed the happy family you could’ve had with Jack. He destroyed the happiness you could’ve had with Ryan.

It was personal.

You ignored the calls and texts from Adam, Griffon, and Joel.

Soon, you had a thick manila folder full of discriminating evidence against Geoff, and you were haggard. A mess. Your chest hurt, and you felt like you were about to explode with the rage and absolute agony of the betrayal that was brewing like a storm in your stomach.

A knock on your apartment door a few weeks later shocked you out of your one track mind.

Caiti stood anxiously in the hallway, and you cracked open the door. She placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh,” she exhaled, and then said your name with every bit of sympathy and caring in her tiny body. She pushed open the door and you let her. You felt like shit now, you hadn’t showered in a while, and you were sure your hair could use a brushing. She closed the apartment door behind her. “I got your apartment from Adam, they’re worried about you. Saying that you’re just obsessing over Geoff, but you won’t tell them what you’re doing.”

You didn’t say anything, just picked up the folder and stared at it. “Geoff…he was…he was hired to k-kill me.”

“What?” she asked, “I…think I misheard you.”

You shook your head and told her everything. It felt almost…therapeutic to let someone know. You couldn’t trust your crew with this information, what if they worked with him?

Caiti listened intently, sitting on your couch and nodding along as you paced back and forth. Explaining your fears and doubts. When you finally ran out of energy to continue blabbering, you stood in the middle of the room. You lifted your arms before they fell uselessly to your sides.

“I…now this is just from an outside view of your new crew,” Caiti started, “but…they don’t have any loyalty to Diamond. If they did? They wouldn’t have revolted against him, and wouldn’t be supporting you now. What is there for them to gain? What enemy do you have that they’d be friends with? Spades? Adam hates Spades, you can see it in the way he talks about him. Griffon may be friends with Geoff, but she has her own agenda. If she wanted to team up with Geoff she’d be with him and not with you, and all of the Fakes would know you’re alive. Geoff is…not many of the Fakes are happy with him. Jack wouldn’t kill him like Ryan would, but…Jack wouldn’t step in front of a bullet for Geoff anymore…and it takes a lot to get on her bad side. If Geoff knew you were alive, he would’ve told everyone to redeem himself and feel less guilty about what happened.”

A couple sentences wouldn’t entirely change your mind about what happened, but it did ease the chaos of your thoughts for a moment. You sat down. You allowed yourself to get so caught up in your thoughts they spiralled out of control. They literally just consumed you, when all you had to do was talk to any of your crew and ask them the right questions. Griffon would be hard to crack, but if you had talked to Joel after a few drinks he would’ve spilled all the beans. You weren’t foolish for thinking the worst, you weren’t naive. You just…let it get a step too far.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, reaching over and squeezing her arm. He patted your hand with a smile.

“Now, you need to go and take a shower, get dressed. I’m taking you for a night out. Get your mind off things, it’ll be good for you.”

You exhale, you didn’t know if you were up to leaving the apartment. Though, she was already heading over to your closet and threw open the doors. With another sigh, you got up and headed to the washroom.

You clicked on the light and actually took in your appearance for the first time in a while. Tangled hair, heavy bags under your eyes, you basically just looked like shit. You shut the door behind you and carefully combed out the tangles in your hair, brushed your teeth, and then stepped into the shower. Your scalp was a bit sensitive as you scrubbed shampoo into your hair, but you rinsed it, smoothed some conditioner through the strands. As you washed your body, you took in all the scars on your body with an almost detached feeling. How many would be added in the next couple weeks? The next year? You hoped that any more injuries you received didn’t leave any more scars, or do any severe damage. In your line of work that was a stupid wish, however.

Unless the gangs of Los Santos traded guns for words.

Which was happening more and more, but at the end of the day anything not peacefully resolved quickly ended with bullets.

You turned off the water and quickly dried yourself with a towel. A quick blow-dry of your hair and you cracked open the door. Caiti walked over, passing you a bundle of clothes. You thanked her, asked her to grab one of your wigs as well before closing the door and getting dressed. She had picked you out a dress in your favourite colour. You zipped it up and then opened the door as Caiti debated between two different dark wigs. You gave your opinion before putting your hair into a wig cap and applying makeup.

Before you knew it, you were riding in a taxi straight for a club. It was one you had heard of but had never been. Less chance you’d be recognized.

You didn’t want to admit it to Caiti, but you were sure she already guess it, but you had been in hiding ever since your ‘death’. You went to the club and you went to your apartment, and that was it. You hadn’t gone shopping for yourself, food or clothing. Others normally did it for you. The less chance of someone randomly recognizing you, the better.

The club was just like yours. The difference? You didn’t have people watching over you, making sure no one stabbed or shot you. Adam wasn’t near you, Griffon wasn’t at the bar laughing and smiling at people, Joel wasn’t watching from the balcony, or from your office. It was…oddly freeing. You hadn’t really considered how closed in you had felt since dying.

It was for the best, but you felt almost a sense of relief.

Soon, you had a few drinks in your system, and you were dancing with a blonde stranger in the middle of the floor. Caiti had disappeared to the bathroom a few moments ago, and with the heat of the club, the thrum of the music, and the release of pent-up energy, you were riding a high. You felt guilty, dancing with someone that wasn’t Ryan. When the song ended, the stranger gave you a smile that sent a familiar warmth to between your legs. You returned the smile but then melted away into the crowd of people, easily slipping away from the guy and finding Caiti as she exited the bathroom. The two of you grabbed a table and got the fanciest most expensive drinks on the menu. You could tell she was attempting to distract you from everything that was happening, but before long she got a text from Jack.

“Oh shoot,” she muttered, “Jack wants to meet you…she’s met all my friends and she’s suspicious about why I won’t let her meet you…and since I told her I was out with you tonight…”

You thought about whether or not you wanted to see Jack yet, but decided that a busy club was not the reunion you wanted. “Not here…I think it’s time for us to leave. I’ll call Griffon and see if she wants to meet up or if she could pick me up.”

“Alright,” Caiti agreed, “I’ll grab a taxi, do you want me to wait for Griffon?”

“I’m good,” you smiled, “Go see your girlfriend.”

Caiti blushed and smiled at you, “Take care, I’ll see you in a while.”

She opened her wallet to give you money for the tab but you waved her away. “My treat, for helping me out today.”

After a light debate about whether she should pay or not, she headed out of the club with another goodbye. You sipped on the last bit of your drink, looking over the club. You did end up texting Griffon and letting her know where you were. She texted you back with a gentle message telling you to enjoy your time out and then proceeded to berate you for your single-mindedness lately. You sent an apology message back, and a few minutes later she said she forgives you. A few moments later another text buzzed through, it was oddly worded but you quickly understood what it meant. She had a target that was actually at the same club you were at. She was asking you to do the dirty work for her, she’d pay you sixty percent of the deal. You debated it.

The fact that you didn’t immediately shoot down the idea startled you as you stared at the typed out message. You still hit send and a chill went through your body. She sent you another text with covert instructions. You followed them to a ‘T’. Go to the bathroom, fix your hair at the second mirror to the wall, wait for a woman in a red dress to enter, compliment her earrings and then ask her if she has some lipstick. She hands it over and says to keep it with a wink. The woman leaves and you apply the lipstick and head out to the floor. You quickly find the mark. Flirt with him, entice him. Then give him a smooch before disappearing into the crowd. Wipe the lipstick off, and open the bottom of the lipstick tube and take the antidote contained within.

Easy.

When did you become okay with killing?

You felt almost sick to your stomach as you leave the club. You hailed a cab, barely noticing a man waving one down as well. When it pulled up the man opened the door and then noticed you reaching for the handle as well. “Oh, sorry, you hailed this one. I’ll grab another one,” he apologized opening it wider and waving inside.

“Which way are you heading?” you asked, despite your best judgement…but he was the one you were dancing with earlier. The tall, blonde hair, brown eyed man was handsome, and your moral compass was out the window tonight. You didn’t know if you were making yourself hate yourself more, but you convinced the man to join you in the taxi. When it pulled up to his apartment, he invited you up for a drink, almost nervously. You accepted.

By the time you reached his door, his hand was up your shirt, your mouth was on his, hands tangled in his hair. He let go of you long enough to get his door open and soon both of you were tumbling onto his bed. His shirt was off and your dress ripped when he pulled it off. He started apologizing profusely. You pulled him back to you. Silencing him with your mouth. You wanted it now. You wanted it bad.

It was so wrong…but it felt so right.


	7. Morning After

You felt incredibly sore when you woke up and had a mild hangover. Your eyes felt heavy as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. The apartment was quiet but it was well past sunrise, the light filtering in from between the blinds casting streaks of light along the room. The bedroom was quite plain, nothing of to distinguish it from any other apartment. Nothing that revealed the personality of who lived there. You cast a side eye at the man beside you. His chest moved rhythmically and deeply. Still asleep.

You rubbed your face and eased out of the bed, not jostling the man at all. You nearly collapsed from joint pain as you straightened and put your weight down. Using the side table as support, you collected your clothes. Pulling on your underwear, and bra, and then pulling your dress over your head. As you did, your wig finally gave way and slipped from your head. You were impressed. It lasted through the night of sweat and partying, then throughout your one-night stand, and then sleeping. You picked up your purse and shoved the purse into the depths. You removed the wig cap and ran your fingers through your hair, opening the door.

“So, it was a wig,” the voice startled you bad enough that you squeaked. He laughed softly, “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I…was totally going to sneak out,” you admitted, not wanting to look at the man in case he could identify you.

“I can tell,” he said, “I’d offer to make you breakfast, but if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. Let’s not make this awkward.”

You glanced over your shoulder with a smile, but the look was instantly swiped off as you saw black hair slipping from under the man’s wig. There was a moment when a pin could have dropped, and it would’ve sounded like a gunshot to you.

The man’s mouth slipped open, eyes widened slowly. The softest whisper of your name. The most beautiful sound in the world coming from his lips. Your purse slipped from your grasp spilling its contents over his floor.

He reached up, his own wig being slipped from his head. Black hair tumbling loosely over his shoulders. The dark eyes nothing more than contacts. You took a step towards the bed, “Ryan…”

Before you could register, he crawled down the length of the bed and grabbed your arm. He pulled you to him, kissing your face in every place he could. His arms tight against your back as he blurted out question after question. You tasted his tears before you felt the sobs roll through his body. He buried his head against your neck. Fingers curling against your back, clinging to the fabric and more importantly, you.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered against your skin. You tightened your grip on him. “How…how are you here…I saw…I s-saw the v…video…” he sobbed and returned to your lips. Kissing you hard enough that your teeth clashed, and your lips bruised. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked, you could hear the underlying anger in his words. You were surprised he wasn’t yelling at you at this point. Accusing you of hiding from him, and then cheating on him. Of not loving him.

You kissed him softly, cupping his cheek in your hand. Wiping the tears away with your thumb. “They found me and got me to a hospital,” you murmured, “I was put under arrest, and was in jail until Adam broke me out. I’ve…I’ve been recovering ever since…” you explained more in-depth. Telling him everything that had happened since you fell in the icy ocean water up until you slept with him. He listened intently and then saw the shame in his eyes as he realized that he had choked you in the club. He released you, but you pulled him back, attempting to give him a kiss but he turned his head.

“I wanted to kill you,” he whispered, and you thought you should feel scared, but in his arms, you didn’t.

“You wanted to kill someone who prevented you from getting revenge. If you knew it was me you wouldn’t have wanted to kill me,” you told him, but you knew it didn’t change his mind. He had wanted to kill you, and both of you knew if Meg hadn’t been there, he probably would’ve tried…maybe even succeeded.

He said your name like it was a blessing and kissed you hard once more. “I thought I lost you…and I let myself lose control…” he stared deeply into your eyes as if soaking up every inch of you in case this was all a dream. “I’m sorry.”

You laughed, but it came out more of a sob, “I should be the one apologizing. I acted without thinking, got myself captured again. I…didn’t tell you guys because I was afraid of what it would do to you guys, and how you would react, and…I’m not who I was before. How could I expect any of you to forgive me or to accept me back after what I did?”

“I forgive you,” he ran his hands through your hair, “Just having you back is enough for me, I don’t care what happened…as long as you’re alive.”

His hands ran down to your hips and pulled you down, twisting you in a way so you landed on your back. The sudden jarring motion sent a spasm through your hip. You cursed and smacked Ryan in the chest with the heel of your palm. He froze, hands hovering just over your hips as if afraid his grip had been too tight. You flexed your leg slowly out and watched bitterly as it twitched under the strain. Ryan’s gaze followed yours and he realized that you hadn’t been entirely open about everything that had happened. He gently rested his hand on your hip and began to knead the muscle.

He leaned down and gently kissed your lips, “What’s wrong?”

“I have chronic pain in my hip, well most of that leg, and a portion of this arm,” you held up the other arm meekly, “Along with severe muscle and joint damage, I couldn’t even walk until a few months ago, and sometimes I still need a wheelchair to get around.”

“Is there anything that can be done to fix it? Or at least help? Surgery?” he questioned.

You let out a soft sigh, the massage felt wonderful. His hands working from the hip to the knee in firm and fluid motions. You wondered how he knew how to do this, but didn’t bother asking. You rested one of your hands on his thigh, looking up at his face from your prone position.

“I’m on medication for the pain, and physiotherapy for the damage. It’s there forever and there’s nothing I can do about it,” you admitted softly. Watching as his face crinkled in thought, his hands never faltered from their massage. When the silence stretched on for more than a minute, you began to chew on your lip. You were no longer the strong, powerful woman you once were. You were brutally scarred from the gunshots, pocketed flesh dotting your side. Not to mention the days of complete fatigue and awful aches and pains. You felt like how you imagined you would feel when you were ninety if you lived that long, with the pains of decades resting on your shoulders. Sure, you were powerful…but not as much in the physical sense anymore.

“Well…” he started, face still screwed up in thought, “That’s not the woman I love. She wouldn’t bash her abilities down so quickly because she’s got a few scars and muscle issues.”

You smacked his hand away abruptly, “It isn’t just muscle issues, Ryan-”

“I know,” he resumed his massage as if you had never smacked his hand. “I dislocated my hip so bad during a heist that went south, and I couldn’t go to the hospital right away because I needed to lay low. Hip wouldn’t pop back into place so I had to suffer a week of pain before Geoff finally forced me to go to the hospital.” You saw a flash of almost pain at the mention of Geoff, but it passed quickly, “When the doctor felt that it was still dislocated she freaked out and demanded why I hadn’t come in sooner. Cue me spouting out bullshit about it wasn’t that bad and I could still walk. I went into surgery and I have a metal pin in my hip. If I had gone in right away, they would’ve been able to pop it back in without surgery, but I didn’t. I spent months doing physio before I got back to helping out on the heists, and everyone treated me like I was fragile. I was furious that they saw me as weak and I almost beat the shit out of Michael one day,” he laughed softly and shook his head. You reached up and tucked a piece of black hair that had fallen in his face behind his ear. “I know how you feel, and you can’t look at this in a negative light. It’s part of you, you have to accept it, you have to realize that it’s part of you now. I can do nearly everything I could do before, I just make sure that I don’t overdo myself.”

“So, that’s the scar on your hip,” you murmured.

“I can tell you of the times when the other guys have been out of commission, it feels a lot less lonely when you realize that others have gone through the same sort of thing as you are,” he offered, but you shook your head.

“Thank you,” you murmured, and you felt your chest tighten. What did you do to deserve this man? The man who forgave you so quickly for hiding yourself from him, the man who then proceeded to do nothing but make you feel loved and accepted for what happened to you.

“Besides! In my eyes? You’re still the beautiful, strong, powerful, independent woman I fell in love with,” he murmured, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

Before he could pull away, your hand slid around to the back of his head. You kept the kiss soft and gentle. You needed that right now. Feeling warm, safe, and happy. His hands stopped massaging, and he shifted himself on top of you. His weight was comforting, each touch relaxing. Neither of your movements was rushed or heavy. His fingers brushed up your side, barely touching the flesh before coming to cup your cheek. You slid your hands down his back and felt the bumps and concaves of his scars and body.

You felt tears on your face, but they weren’t yours. You felt the sudden urge to cry, and you didn’t even bother to stop yourself. His lips moved from yours, kissing your cheeks, then your nose, and then down to your neck. He buried his face there. You heard a sharp intake of air as his tears turned to sobs. “Don’t leave me again, please,” he whispered, “I love you….I love you so much.”

You carefully shifted the two of you, and he offered no resistance as he rolled onto his back. His face red and puffy with tears, and you were sure your face was no different. Straddling his waist, you returned the favor. Kissing his lips, cheeks, nose. You slid your hand between the two of you and took him in your hand. Shifting back slightly you slowly sank down. Almost tortuously slow. You had never really had sensual, slow sex, it was normal quick and hard. A frustration release rather than a truly intimate moment.

But this?

You watched as his eyes closed, tears still escaping, and his mouth open. One hand moved to your hip, the injured one as if steadying it, and the other hand finding your free hand and clasping it tightly. When you began to rock slowly his eyes opened again and you placed your other hand on the hand on your hip. Gently moving, feeling the pressure inside grow slower than it had ever before.

He sat up slowly, an arm circling around your waist, and the other arm supporting him.

The two of you moved together. Thrusting and grinding against each other. Feeling the heat and tension swirling together as your chest brushed against his. Your lips so close to his, occasionally brushing. Nothing but the increasing tempo of moans and breathing filling the air.

You wanted him to be closer to you. You wanted to never leave this room again. This was what you had been missing. Him. He completed you, and you thought it was cheesy and stupid and naive to think like that. Soulmates were just fantasies people made up. The One was an idea sold to people by the rom-com movies. Yet…he was everything to you in this moment. You loved every inch of him. His hair, his eyes, the stubble on his chin, the feeling of his arm around your waist, tight enough to feel secure.

It was beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. So, a lot of stuff has happened in my life since I wrote the last chapter so this one was mighty delayed...but what better way to ring in 2018 then by updating this fic? My new years resolution is to write more this year. My goal for the year is to write between 400k-500k words spread over original fiction and fanfiction! That is about 2k a day, and 2k is about the word count of the average chapter for this fic, so hopefully I'll have finished the writing of the fic by the end of January. The typical week to week publishing should return if I stick to my guns! Wish me luck!
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! AND I HOPE 2018 TREATS YOU BETTER THAN 2017!


	8. Truths Revealed

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so safe and…normal. Ryan was making the two of you some late breakfast, the whole deal, as you nursed some coffee to help the last of your hangover fade away. The sex had helped, with your muscle cramps and the migraine that had started to form, but the coffee would help dissipate the rest. Anything remaining would be dealt with some medication. The apartment you were in was a temporary one he got. Nothing in it screamed ‘Ryan’. Just a basic apartment. You didn’t bother asking him if he still returned to his apartment below the penthouse, you had the feeling he did, even if it was just to water his plants.

“Normally, I barely have any food here, just some cereal, Diet Coke, and a shit ton of those premade meals. Meg took me grocery shopping the other day when she saw the state of my fridge, and I offered to cook her breakfast the next time I…” he pressed his lips together, a darkness passing behind his eyes.

“The next time the Vagabond showed up?” you offered, cupping your hands around the warm mug. He nodded and tossed two more slices of toast into the toaster. You abandoned your mug and pushed his hands out of the way, taking the butter knife from him. He kissed your temple and turned his attention back to the eggs. You felt your cheeks heat up. Your relationship hadn’t been like this since you had first started dating him before you figured out he was the Vagabond and not just Ryan Haywood. You could tell he was still in a dark place and cleared your throat. “Remember our first date?” you asked, feeling a bit silly for doing that.

He turned his head towards you, surprised, “Of course, why?”

“That was one of our best dates,” you murmur, and then turn your head towards him, “and…since neither of us is in serious trouble…”

“I can’t take you on an identical date,” he huffed. “It’ll lose its romance. I have something in mind though. First, I gotta live up to the promise I made you back when we first started dating. I haven’t made you a true breakfast yet.”

You laughed, “When did you promise that?”

“When we had sex the first time, you thought I left in the middle of the night. You didn’t have any food in your apartment and we ended up eating cold pizza, then we both rushed off to deal with crew stuff.”

You grimaced at the memory, taking a moment to drink some coffee. Your phone began ringing before you could think of a response. Ryan watched curiously as you headed over to your purse and pulled the offending device from the depths. It was Adam. You answered it without thought. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Caiti is worried you didn’t get home safely last night, where are you?” he asked, and then in an afterthought added, “You're supposed to be at a physiotherapy appointment in an hour and you were supposed to meet up with a source.”

You closed your eyes and sighed deeply. “I…” you glanced up at Ryan, he wasn’t even pretending not to be listening in on you. You sat down on the couch and rubbed your temple. “I’m fine, Adam. Just a touch hungover. I’m sorry.”

“I met up with the source in your stead, they don’t know what you look like and it was easy to convince them I was you. They seemed too nervous to question why I went by Lady SAI,” he chuckled, “but your appointment? That I can’t do. Are you able to get there yourself or do you need a chauffeur?”

“Thank you so much,” you breathed out in relief. “Fill me in on that later. I’ll text you a place to pick me up, can you bring a spare change of clothes? I’m still wearing what I wore last night.”

Silence. “You got it,” Adam finally said, you could see his face reeling with questions, but he was sweet enough not to pester you about it. It almost made you miss Meg, however. Her incessant need to know about your sex and dating life had been annoying but now you really wanted to just hear her squeal and demand details about why you needed a change of clothes.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you promised. You hung up after his goodbye. “I have an appointment in an hour-”

“Adam?” Ryan asked, his voice drastically different from what it was before. “Adam Ellis?”

Your eyes flicked over to Ryan, but his back was now turned to you. He continued cooking, taking the eggs out of the frying pan and placing them on plates. “Yes.”

No lies.

“The man who kidnapped you twice on the orders of Diamond?” Ryan asked, his voice was very calm but it sent a chill down your spine and at the same time sent a burning anger through you.

“You mean, the man who saved my life? Who broke me out of jail? Who’s helped me get out of a very severe depression and helped me get back on my feet?” your voice was just as even and calm. “Yes, that Adam Ellis.”

Ryan said nothing, just finished filling the plates. The silence just fueled the anger instead of helping it dissipate. “Why are you seeing him tonight?”

“We have a crew meeting,” you spoke through your teeth, attempting to decrease the chance of the two of you having a fight. More silence.

“Is Slade going to show up as well?”

You threw your cell at his head. He whipped around, fury in his face, and you picked up the tv remote and hurled it at him as well. He dodged that one and stormed towards you. You straightened up, knowing without a doubt he wouldn’t do a damn thing to you. “Don’t you fucking accuse me of cheating on you, Ryan Haywood, I don’t give a fuck if you’re jealous. Also, I wouldn’t ever be in the same room longer than a few minutes with Slade without attempting to kill him. Speaking of Slade,” you snarled, “I almost had him when you burst into my fucking club. He nearly stabbed Griffon because of you. Now I won’t be able to get as close to him again thanks to you and Meg.”

He barked out a laugh. “You get all mad that I dare question if you were sleeping with Adam,” he started, voice still deadly calm, “then you get all up in arms about me and Meg?”

You paused, “What are you talking about?”

You saw a flash in his eyes and you stepped back. “Oh.”

“I…” he paused, all anger fading from him. “I don’t want to fight…not now…”

“You and Meg?” you asked, and you felt no surprise. Not after Caiti’s way of describing their new friendship. She could soothe him.

“Yes,” he whispered, looking away from you.

You felt…many things. Yet, you didn’t know what you were allowed to feel. Ryan hadn’t known you were alive when he had slept with Meg, but she was one of your best friends. If it had been anyone else you would’ve been more understanding. Were you allowed to be angry? It happened once, after all. Could you lay in bed with Ryan and not imagine him and Meg, entwined in a bed as well. Was it sensual and soft?  How did Meg feel about it? Did she have different ideas about their relationship than Ryan did?

God, you imagined so much of your meeting with Ryan, but this was not it. Even in your darkest ideas did you ever think that he would’ve had sex with your friend. It almost felt like they both betrayed you.

“Say something,” he murmured, still looking at the floor. “Please.”

“I need to go to my appointment,” you murmured, picking up your purse from the table. Ryan grabbed your arm before you could walk away.

“I don’t love her,” he clarified, “I love you. I thought you were dead,” he whispered, “if I had known you were alive I would’ve…I would’ve never betrayed you like that.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you nod. You pulled your arm away and collected your phone. It was a disposable one but you knew it would have to be chucked out now. A flip phone with keys missing would be a bitch to type with. You shoved it into your purse regardless and paused beside the plates of food. You stopped and picked up a piece of bacon. You felt bad that he had made food and you were leaving. He walked up behind you and buried his face into your neck as you ate as much of the breakfast as you could.

“I can drive you-” he offered but you stepped away from him. You needed time to think and you told him as much. He nodded, the saddest look on his face.

You left without a backward glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Remember how I said I was making a playlist like FOREVER ago? I finally made it! If anyone has any more suggestions for it, feel free to let me know!
> 
> Link: https://8tracks.com/xchibi/the-bombshells


	9. Apologize

You were pouring over all the information you had, once again. You had finished reading all the newest information on Slade, not much to report really. You still had no information about where he stayed during the night, you had a vague description of his base of operations, but really, you knew next to nothing besides that. You had hoped to kill him in your office, and if that failed you would’ve hoped to keep up even the air of friendship with him until you got him alone. As for Geoff? He was even harder to find, you were sure you could ask Griffon to lure him out but you weren’t going to stoop that low. You’d find him without getting her directly involved, it’d be better that way.

A quick knock on your door, you checked your watch. That would be the Chinese you ordered. You shoved the blanket off your lap and walked over to the door. Another rather impatient knock and you called out for them to calm down as you unlocked the two deadbolts and the chain. Just as you swung the door open, the man burst into your apartment. You had the door closed and your gun aimed at the man before he could turn around.

The feeling of the silencer on the back of his head did nothing, the man turned around and you instantly lowered the gun. “Ryan,” you snapped, “Don’t just burst into someone’s apartment like that.”

“You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel,” he blurted out, “just don’t ignore me.” You blink in surprise as he lifted a bouquet of white and red roses. “I can’t…I don’t want to fight. I…please.”

You gently took the bouquet from him, smelling the floral fragrance, and then met his eyes. “I’m sorry…I’ve just been distracted. I have meant to respond to your messages I just have been working.”

The look he gave you said he didn’t fully believe you, so you took his hand and led him to the coffee table. You jerked your chin towards the files, and he hesitantly reached out towards them. At a confirming nod, he picked up one on Slade and peered through them. You headed into the kitchen to fill up a vase for the flowers. You didn’t have a true vase, but you did have an empty juice container that you fashioned into a temporary vase. Ryan was busy reading another file when you headed back over and sat down beside him.

“Geoff…accepted a hit on you?” Ryan asked rereading the same piece of paper, brow furrowed as if he was trying to find another answer the information wouldn’t give. “Jesus, that was…when you were a child?” his voice rose. “A fucking child, Geoff?” he snarled under his breath and shook his head. “That was when you were living with Jack? So while he was pretending to be a father, he was plotting to kill you?”

“That’s the part I don’t get,” you murmur, “I was alone with him enough, but he never tried to kill me.”

“Did he accept it to prevent someone else from accepting it? No…someone smart would’ve had a time limit. Ten years is too extreme,” Ryan muttered to himself and shook his head. “Still. A child. I was a hitman for a while and I never would accept a hit on someone under twenty-one.”

“When were you a hitman? Haven’t you always worked with the Fakes?” you asked surprised, remembering the story he told you of how he became entangled in the criminal life.

Ryan placed the paper down on the table, “I had a fight with them a year after I joined them. I was too much of a goody-two-shoes for them, but I knew too much to let me go. It was very clear that I wouldn’t last long if I talked about the crew, so I told them to go fuck themselves. It became clear if I stayed in Los Santos I’d be screwed. I left but found myself drawn to the criminal underground. I took up killing for others for money. Why do you think I got the name ‘Vagabond’ it wasn’t from staying in Los Santos. I returned a while later, and I offered my services to Geoff. He laughed in my face saying that I hadn’t changed and they didn’t need me questioning their morals the entire way. So, I gave them a manila folder of all the pictures I had taken of the men and women I had tested my skills on. They realized who I had become and they knew that it was better for me to be part of their crew than…well an enemy.”

You didn’t expect such a long story from him, but you felt your heart go out to him. You wanted to meet the man he had been before the Fakes fucked him over. You turn his head towards you and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “I wouldn’t have done that.”

“I know,” he murmured, then laughed an empty sound. “I don’t think we’d have ever met if it wasn’t for me becoming the Vagabond, and that I’m grateful for.” He ran his thumb over your cheek and then allowed his hand to slid down your neck and rest on your back. “I love you.”

You kissed him again.

The kiss quickly starts to become something more. Before you knew it, you were on your back, his hand was under your shirt, and you were grinding up against him. His growing erection pressed against the exact right spot.

A flash of Meg in the exact same position flashed through your eyes and you pushed Ryan away gently. He immediately stopped, and the pressure of his body against you was gone. “What’s wrong?” he asked, hand resting on your hip as if he was worried he hurt you again. You shook your head and swallowed thickly.

“Why…did you have sex with Meg?” you asked quietly. You had to know, it would kill you if you didn’t know. Did he have feelings for her? Was it a drunken tumble? You had to know.

He sat up fully, and you could see clearly he’d rather not talk about that right now. However, he rubbed his face and adjusted himself. “We got back from killing some of Diamond’s old crew who were still faithful to the asshole,” he murmured, “Covered in blood. Their deaths weren’t clean. I was…well I was still full of rage, hate, and at my absolute worst. Nothing I could would bring you back, but I always had to kill to just feel something. Even if it was anger. Meg went into the bathroom and was washing up in the sink. I went in to ask her if she wanted an extra blanket on the bed or if I could have it for the couch. For a moment…for a moment, I didn’t see Meg…I saw you, and I know that’s a shitty thing to say. I know it. To both you and Meg. However…I just…reacted. She didn’t object…I feel like an ass for saying it but she was very willing.  I…pretended she was you and I knew she knew, and I felt like the worst piece of shit ever afterward. I fucked up…I could never ask Meg’s forgiveness because I don’t deserve it. I apologized, but I never asked forgiveness, and I can’t ask you for your forgiveness either. I just…I fucked up.”

You didn’t expect that either. You hoped Meg didn’t have feelings for Ryan in any capacity, because if she knew they had sex while Ryan looked at her as if she was you? God. You couldn’t imagine that kind of pain.

You reached out to him, pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry…I should’ve told you…I should’ve immediately gotten a message to you that I was still alive. I just…I was just so…” you couldn’t find the words, and you felt tears starting to form. “I hated myself. I hated how weak I was, and the weaker I felt the more ashamed I felt. The more ashamed I got, the less I felt deserving of any…any of you guys. I isolated myself and the more I did the worse I got…” you felt a sob working its way up your throat. He held you tightly. “I…I still don’t think I deserve any of you guys,” you admitted quietly, “but I’m so sorry that I’m so selfish and I’ve caused you such pain.”

He kissed you hard and then returned to holding you tightly, his cheek resting on your temple. “You’re not weak,” he murmured, “You’re so far from it. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve been kidnapped, tortured, shot, threatened, and you still come back swinging, and all for the people you care about.”

That got you sobbing into his chest, and soon you two were intertwined on the couch, faces puffy with spent tears. The coffee table was still littered with your papers, but for once when you looked at them you didn’t feel the pull to reread them like they normally did. Right now, you just wanted to cuddle and ignore the rest of the world. Los Santos could wait a few hours. Until then, you allowed yourself to just focus on the man you were cuddled into. The man you loved.


	10. Reuniting

You weren’t sure about this. Ryan had convinced you to meet up with Meg, and while you were glad you were about to see one of your best friends, you were worried. Ryan took the news extremely well that you were back, so had Caiti. Someone was eventually not going to forgive you. You didn’t know who’s refusal to forgive was going to cut deeper. You’d just have to wait and see, though you’d really enjoy it if life could just skip to the point where they already all knew so you didn’t have to go through the anxiety of them figuring out. Maybe you should’ve just immediately reached out to them.

Griffon was working the bar downstairs, she’d be the one to escort Ryan and Meg upstairs.

You could only imagine Meg’s reaction to returning to the club that Ryan had nearly killed a crew leader and they had been so close to killing Slade. She’d be on edge, confused, and probably irritated with her partner in crime.

There was also the whole ‘She slept with your boyfriend while she thought you were dead' thing. Of course, you wouldn't blame her for it. You truly wouldn't even bring it up. You knew about it and had forgiven Ryan for it already. Sure, there were times when you still thought about it, but overall it didn’t both you. Not really. Well, that was a lie. It bothered the shit out of you, but could you really be mad about it? You would hope that if you died Ryan would move on and find love again, and if it was with one of your best friends? Well, good for both of them. The only reason it stung was because you weren’t dead, but they hadn’t known that.

Caiti was sitting on the couch, legs bouncing in anticipation. “It’s going to be okay,” she reassured you. “Meg really misses you, and you’ve been friends with her longer than we’ve been friends. She’ll be ecstatic to see you.”

“I also know that Meg can hold grudges,” you muttered and closed your email. A text from Ryan let you know they were there. Caiti didn’t say anything else and you worried if she thought the same. You didn’t have much time to dwell on it since Griffon phoned up to let you know that Team Free Slay was there for the meeting. You could barely reply, just squeaked out ‘send em up’ and then hung up. You weren’t wearing your disguise, just your typical casual clothes.

A few moments later Griffon opened the door and allowed Ryan and Meg to enter. They were both wearing their masks, and as soon as the door closed Ryan removed his and walked over to the mini-fridge and pulled out a diet coke. Meg stared after him in complete shock. He plopped down on the couch beside Caiti.

“Caiti? What are you doing here?" Meg asked, even more, shocked that the super morally good Caiti was here of all places. You couldn't blame her, as far as Meg was aware Caiti worked full time at her woman's shelter. You were surprised that Caiti was so eager to help you with the crew.  As for Meg, she still hadn't looked your way and your heart was in your throat. You watched the different emotions flicking through her eyes before you cleared your throat. It was more of a nervous thing than trying to catch her attention, but the brunette turned her gaze to you. She was either wearing a wig or had dyed her hair.

Her hands flew up to her mouth and she stared at you with tears in her eyes. “No. This is impossible!” she squeaked out, taking a step back. “This is bullshit!”

“Nope,” Ryan responded calmly, “I made sure, it’s her.”

You sent him a half-hearted scowl. When you stood up, you didn’t know what to do next, just stared across the room at one of your oldest friends. She reached up and shakingly took off her mask, saying your name. “No. It can’t be.”

“You cosplayed from age fourteen until three years ago when someone said you looked exactly like Dollface. You came to my apartment crying because you didn’t want to give up cosplaying but you didn’t want to stop being Dollface either and you didn’t know what to do,” you said, remembering the day like it was yesterday. Meg’s heart was completely broken, if too many people made the connection then her private life would be destroyed and she couldn’t allow that. She had given up cosplaying as much as she had been, and certainly never wore anything that would cover her face in any capacity.

Her face crumpled into an ugly cry and you moved around the desk, hesitating for a moment. Would she want you to hug her?

You didn’t have to decide, the small woman darted over to you and pulled you into a tight hug. Sobbing hard enough her entire body shook. You clung back to her, and quickly joined her in crying. God, you had never cried this much in your life. Even when Jack and Geoff left when you were twenty. Still, that's why no one else besides Ryan and Caiti was in the room. You didn't want your new crew to see you crying. None of them were that close to you yet, and you didn't want to give them the impression that you were a quick crier. Adam had seen enough of your tears, and you didn't know how you felt about that still.

Meg stepped back but kept her hands on your shoulders. Her face was streaked with black lines from her makeup. Her lipstick smudged, and you were glad you weren’t wearing a light coloured shirt. You laughed,

“You should see your face,” she shot back, “all puffy and red.”

“That’s because you started crying,” you lied. You were pretty sure even if she hadn’t started crying you would’ve. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be!” Meg snapped, and then sniffled. You handed her a tissue and she blotted at her eyes. “Do you have any idea the pain that we felt?”

“Of course,” you murmur.

She was silent for a moment, but then she let out a deep sigh. You handed her another tissue and she blew her nose. “I can’t blame you…not after what happened. I mean, we all saw the video.”

You lower your gaze. “I was in the hospital for a very long time, but Adam wasn’t able to hide who I was from them for long. They reported me to the cops and I was restricted from making phone calls, and the only people allowed in was the nurses, police, and Adam….his…his girlfriend is a cop. He got special clearance from LSPD. Joel managed to get in as well somehow; I just think he snuck in when no one was paying attention. After that, I was in jail. Everything was kept confidential. I wasn't allowed to phone out, I wasn't given a trail, I wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone outside of the prison. About a year ago I was broken out of jail…but…I was…” you struggled for the words.

“She was in a wheelchair,” Caiti murmured, “…she had pretty bad mental health issues.”

Your eyes snapped to Caiti. You knew you had mentioned it to her before, but you downplayed the shit out of it. The woman gave you a soft look, “I work to help women like you, I know how bad you were.”

Meg turned as if noticing Caiti and Ryan for the first time. "You both knew and didn't tell me," her voice was accusatory but quiet. It was her actual angry voice. "How long have you known?”

Caiti shrugged, “Six months give or take, she came to my shelter in disguise. You didn’t mean to have me realize it was you at first, did you?” Caiti asked you. You shook your head, guilty.

"Eight days," Ryan offered but seemed equally surprised that Caiti knew much longer than even he did. You had a feeling he'd bring that up later, but to be fair you knew Caiti was the most likely to completely accept that you were alive. Even if you hadn’t really thought that when you went to her shelter.

“So, what have you been doing?” Meg asked, abruptly changing the subject. You knew she’d bring that up later, but for now, her attention was drawn to the obvious fact that you were holding a meeting in a club. “Wait, you’re Lady SAI?”

“AS you can see, I’m the brains behind TFS,” Ryan teased Meg. You felt a teeny stab of jealousy in your stomach but you immediately shoved it aside. You ignored his comment.

“I am. I’ve been looking for Slade, and Geoff,” you added your former friend to the end almost reluctantly. “Slade wants to get rid of Geoff. I haven’t fully grasped _why_ yet, but he does. I was attempting to get that information out of him when you two showed up and ruined my attempt. However…Geoff…he took out a contract to kill me when I was younger.”

Meg’s eyes widened, which in any other circumstance you would’ve laughed at her panda eyes. Now, you just leaned back against your desk, hand massaging your knee absentmindedly. Her eyes flicked down to the motion, assessed it, and turned her attention back to the conversation. You were glad, Adam would’ve interrupted and asked if you needed medication or if you wanted to sit down.

“Are you sure that Slade didn’t plant that information in order to get you to go after Geoff? Reveal where he is or have you do his dirty work for him?” she asked, “I don’t know Geoff that well, but he doesn’t seem that kind of guy! Besides, he’s had, what? Almost two decades worth of time to try to kill you but yet here you are?”

“I just…” you sighed, rubbing your face. “Geoff isn’t the kind of guy who could look a child in the face and kill them. He’s not the kind of guy who could look a friend in the face and shoot them. Still, I can’t help but wonder if Geoff hadn’t…manipulated the situation with Diamond. What if he had a deal with Diamond on the side? He brought me to Diamond as bait, and he said he’d shoot Diamond regardless of my life, but he didn’t. He let Diamond kidnap me. Then, he makes a huge deal about going to get Diamond by himself. What was I supposed to do? Sit by and be like ‘okay, see ya, buddy! It's nice knowing you!'? Hell no, of course, I wouldn't let him go alone! I'd go with him because as much as the Bombshells mean the world to me? Geoff is the closest thing to a father I’ll ever have, and family means the world to me. If Jack had been there when Jeremy, Lindsay, and I hacked into the Fakes bank accounts. I wouldn’t have pulled the trigger. I would’ve sooner let her fill me with bullet holes than ever fire against her.”

You hadn’t realized you were rambling until Meg grabbed your arm. “Hey,” she said softly, “I get it, but you’re letting what if’s obscure facts. I’ll look into it further for you. You’re a great leader, and you’re great at getting information, but I am the queen of that. If not? I can ask Gavin, or Lindsay, or Ryan can look into it even.”

“It does seem a little suspicious,” Caiti suggested, “Slade shows up _right_ before you find out that Geoff accepted a hit on you?”

You headed to the display case behind your desk and hit a hidden button. The smooth panel that seemed to be just decorative popped open and you swung it further open. You pulled out the information you found on the hit and flipped to what you wanted to find. “He didn’t just accept the hit on me,” you walked over and placed the paper on the coffee table. Ryan picked it up, and you instantly regretted it. It was like a switch was flipped, he was fully in Vagabond mode.

“Get Griffon up here, I’ll get his location in an hour.”

“You are not torturing Griffon-”

“I didn’t say anything about torture-”

“It’s implied,” you said drily, and his eyes narrowed, but you continued on. “I don’t want Geoff dead, I want to make myself clear there. Griffon also isn’t truly part of my crew, she works in the bar and nothing more. She’s a contact. I won’t have her cough up information that could put her at risk of pissing off powerful people.”

“She knows where he is, doesn’t she?” Ryan demanded, “I’ll ask her myself.”

“Geoff moves around too much for even Griffon to know exactly where he is,” Meg admitted, which sent Ryan’s head swivelling to her. “I told you that I wouldn’t help you kill Geoff when we got together, and I knew you’d try to find him so I kept track of where he is. Even if the information was outdated.”

“The Fakes would know where he is,” Caiti suggested, “but they wouldn’t give him up to us or you guys.”

“He’d come out if we sent them information that only I would know,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “Of course, make it more of a threat than a friend reminiscing about the past."

“Like what?” Meg asked, “Tell him that he’s got a tattoo of Gavin’s nose on his leg?”

You sputtered a laugh out, “What?”

Ryan snorted, “It was a dumb joke. Gavin beat him in a street race and Geoff had to get a tattoo of Gavin’s nose.”

The idiocy of the Fakes. You were shocked sometimes that they were the most powerful crew in Los Santos. Shaking your head, you allowed yourself to sober up, “Meg, I need you to get my old things. Are you able to do that?”

She stared hard at you for a moment, "I think I can. Lindsay has it all, and I don't think she's going to just hand it over to me. Anything, in particular, you're looking for?"

“Pictures, of when I lived with Jack,” you clarified.

“I can do pictures. Anything bigger and she’d notice quickly. She has it all in storage at her house, but she tells me she double checks that it’s still there every so often. Some of the stuff can’t end up in the wrong hands.”

Now this, this was familiar. Espionage. None of the guns and explosions. This was what you were comfortable with and knew the consequences of. Anything else was too risky, and this was what had gotten the Bombshells their name. The quiet crew compared to the loud Fakes, but just as dangerous. Not for killing or explosions, but for taking someone's life and ruining it. Though, you were also known for robbing a few art galleries, museums, mansions, and banks. Heists made crews in this city. You remembered you had a hand in rigging a few mayoral elections and had been invited to parties of the rich and famous. Though no one knew why you were so rich and famous. You just were, and if people pissed you off, a few weeks later they'd be penniless or be caught in some horrendous scandal. You controlled the elite of Los Santos. Now, you were back at the bottom, and you felt glad to be here.

If only Diamond hadn't targeted the Bombshells…you'd probably be even more powerful than the Fakes. Though that safety and peace would be gone quickly because Diamond would've turned his attention towards you as well.

“I know this is…sudden,” you state, and then look between Ryan and Meg, “but I’m offering you both jobs in SAI.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows, “Really?”

"What does SAI stand for?" Meg asked, "Like Sigh, like an orgasm?"

Caiti burst into laughter, “It’s Savage Animal Idiots.”

That sent the two of them into fits of laughter. You smiled, everything would work out. You felt it.


	11. The Confrontation

It was time. You had lured Geoff out of hiding with a few carefully aimed comments that could be seen as threats. Meg had managed to get the photos you had requested and when you sent them to the location Meg had provided, you had a meeting in less than a week. Longer than you would’ve imagined, but you could only imagine that the others would be warning Geoff about leaving hiding. He had more dangerous enemies than he ever did before. Before he was untouchable…but now? He was a sitting duck.

An abandoned warehouse was always the location of choice for meetups. Both crews could scope out the location, set up snipers, the background teams, etc, etc. If it was a full-on fight, usually areas like beneath the freeway, or North of the city was better. Firefights always drew attention. For just simple talks, a warehouse was ideal. At least in Los Santos. It was just the way things were.

You debated bringing a chair to sit in during the talk, but decided against it. Even though now your hip was already starting to stiffen and you were sure you would be sore tomorrow. Geoff was late, but according to Meg, he was on his way. Better late than never, and a power move. Show up late and walk in like he doesn’t care whether or not he was on time? His time wasn’t worth this, but he decided to show up. You’re just lucky he didn’t make you wait longer. Of course, you knew different. He did care; he wouldn’t be showing up if he didn’t care.

Still, showing up late just made you silently worry. What if he decided meeting up was a bad idea and instead of negotiating whatever it is you wanted, he could have Jeremy setting up a shot to take you out right now. You just hoped that your recon team was right and that where your crew was standing was completely obscured from the windows. Even a hair in the view of a sniper could be dangerous.

You only had Adam, Ryan, Meg, and Caiti with you. You knew who Geoff would bring, and it’d be all the Fakes. An intimidation tactic. They’ve got the numbers and the gun power to overpower nearly anyone. Mess with them, and you won’t be seeing daylight. That never intimidated you, before. Back when you still thought that Geoff cared about you, now you weren’t too sure.

Fifteen minutes after the meeting time, a van rolled into the docking area. You saw Jack in the driver’s seat, with Lindsay beside her. One by one the Fakes poured out of the van. They were clearly dressed for this to go south, and you wondered if Geoff was planning on that. Hopefully not, this would be your first firefight since…well almost dying. You wouldn’t survive up against the dangerous men and women of the Fake AH Crew. If you could even bring yourself to shoot back at any of them.

You were wearing a mask, along with the others. The Fakes were not. Jeremy had taken up a ridiculous orange and purple suit and cowboy hat, which in any other circumstance you would’ve burst out laughing about. It was god awful. He looked so…neon and so unlike himself. Though, you were sure that it was just to confuse everyone else. Make them focus on the outfit so they don’t notice him reaching for a gun or knife hidden inside the suit. Lindsay looked ready to take names and kick ass, as usual. Jack as somber and kept an eye on Geoff. Who was decked out as per usual. Expensive suit, his mustache curled, and his cufflinks sparkling. Gavin and Michael were sporting heavy guns, and you knew they both would easily turn them on your crew at the slightest hint from Geoff.

All in all, you would’ve been intimidated if they were anyone else.

Geoff’s eyes aren’t on you, but on Ryan, and you could see sweat forming on his brow. “What is Team Free Slay doing here? I thought you wanted this private?”

“I have recently…acquired the services of the Vagabond and Dollface,” you replied easily, attention zeroing in on him and him alone. “They’re part of my crew now.”

Just like that, a wall was thrown up. He wouldn’t give you an inch. He was entirely the boss and you weren’t privy to his thoughts or feelings on the situation. He simply crossed his arms. “Let me get this straight. You send me photos of myself, Jack, and her deceased daughter; threaten me over them, and now you’re all buddy-buddy with a man who has vocally told me he’d kill me the next time he saw me.”

“Sounds about right,” you say, and then hold your hand towards Adam. He hands you the folder, and you take a step forward, extending it towards Geoff. “I make it my business to know others business. I have many, many years of digging up the past and making people dance to keep what I find a secret. So, when I found this juicy piece of information, I just had to share it with you.”

When you offered nothing more, Geoff nodded towards Jeremy. Of course, Geoff wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk close enough to you or Ryan. Jeremy could handle either of you at hand-to-hand, but you weren’t going to try anything. Instead, you allowed the shorter man to take the folder and then walk back to Geoff and hand it to him. You waited until Geoff was finished, and you knew exactly when he was finished. His facade dropped so slightly and you struck.

“I bet Los Santos police department would love to know that Geoff Ramsey took out a hit on a child and killed her in a ‘freak’ fire,” you felt the snarl in your throat, “Or that’s what they’ll know at least. I know the truth, Geoff. I know you accepted the money on the hit recently, which means the child didn’t die in that fire all those years ago. You got the money transfer after the death of the Bombshells leader, whom you were allied with at the time. Dollface probably wants you dead more than the Vagabond does.”

Geoff had gone white in the face, and you saw the dynamic shift. The Fakes were trying so hard not to turn to Geoff in shock and outrage. Jeremy’s knuckles were white and lips pressed into a thin line. Lindsay subtly placed a hand on his shoulder, but her fury matched his own.

“I accepted a hit on her, but I never went through with it,” Geoff snapped, flinging the folder back towards you. The contents scattered on the floor. “I didn’t kill her, the Kingpins did it. If you did your research, you would’ve figured that out.”

“You accepted the hit from Diamond,” your voice rose, “How did a woman who was known for leading a non-confrontational crew end up being killed by a man in a gunfight? Why would she ever meet up with a man who wanted her dead?”

You saw the fury in Geoff’s eyes and he stepped forward, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! You weren’t there, you never met her, and you have no right to accuse me of conspiring to murder her! She was my friend, and I swear to god if you don’t get the fuck out of my sight, I’ll shoot you right in between your fucking eyes.”

“You still collected the money on her,” you spat, “You benefited from your friend’s death. How fucking sad for you. Bet you just can’t sleep at night surrounded by a million dollars. Was that all she was worth to you? I could get a million in two days.”

Geoff pulled his gun and Caiti grabbed your arm, “Enough!” she urged.

Jack stepped forwards, “Caiti?”

You felt Caiti flinch, and your chest was heaving with rage, but you almost recoiled at the sound of betrayal and rage in Jack’s voice when she had said Caiti’s name.

“What are you doing with SAI?” Jack demanded, “I thought you were helping out a friend?”

“I am,” Caiti replied, her voice soothing. She didn’t clarify who was her friend.

“Is it true?” Ryan stepped forward, his voice so icy it stopped everyone’s voices before the whole room was filled with accusatory shouts. He removed his mask, and the look beneath was so chilling that you had to look at Geoff before you froze. “How long did you wait before collecting the money?”

“I-” you could hear the objection in Geoff’s voice and so could Ryan.

“I gave up my fucking life for you!” Ryan shouted, and you couldn’t help but flinch. “I fought tooth and nail for you. I became a fucking sociopath. I’ve done awful things for the fucking crew, and this is how you repay me? You take out a hit on my girlfriend, and then reap the rewards!”

Ryan lunged forwards, but you and Adam grabbed him before he could make it past you.

“I should’ve killed you on the docks, you sack of shit,” Ryan snarled. “That’s my biggest regret.”

The sound of a door slamming open made everyone jump. Ryan had his mask on and a gun pointed at the intruder before you could blink, and when you looked past him. You couldn’t believe it.

Slade.


	12. Nightshade

The stupid grin on his face redirected your anger instantly. You would’ve jumped over and smashed his fucking face in, but you were waiting until the BTS crew could inform you of how many people he had waiting outside. You heard Adam murmur into the comms asking for a report, so you kept your attention on the man striding across the warehouse. Completely alone. He was either completely stupid or seriously courageous. You didn’t think he was really both, more likely he had a backup plan. There was no way he survived this long being a complete idiot. Not many people did in this line of work.

“You know what I really enjoy? When someone leads you straight to who you’re trying to find without them noticing!” Slade clapped his hands together, “It’s perfect! Little work on my end, really.”

No one responded to him at first. Just stared at him in complete disbelief. Slade walked closer towards where you stood, a smirk on his stupid face. Adam’s grasp on Ryan’s jacket slipped, and you wondered if he was hoping that Ryan would just end Slade then and there, or if he was reaching for a gun himself to take the fucker out. Either way, you weren’t going to complain, Ryan was much more likely to kill Slade than he was to kill Geoff after all. The only thing you were worried about was him going after Geoff after he was done with Slade.

“Look, Lady SAI,” Slade clapped his hands together, “I’ll give you one more chance to join me in taking out the Fakes. We’ve got all the key players right here, it’ll be incredibly easy.”

“Easy has never been my forte,” you seethed, “and I don’t take kindly to my meeting’s being interrupted.”

Slade sighed, “I’ve been listening in, and really, what do you gain from knowing the answer to that? The Vagabond there is too much of a sociopath to truly love anyone,”  he laughed, “or have anyone love him.”

Ryan lunged forwards but Adam grabbed him.

“Take my offer, it’s really for the best.”

You walked towards the slimeball, and he extended his hand. From the smirk on his face, he thought you wanted to join him. “I’d rather die slowly from poison than work for you,” you whispered, “I’d rather drown in the ocean than raise you up to my level of power.”

You saw the irritation broad as daylight on his face. He’d never make a good crew leader, everything was always apparent on his face. People could take advantage of that so easily. He could never hold back information. He’d crack in an instant if someone tortured him. It was pathetic.

“That changes things,” he whispered back and pulled out a gun. He wasn’t able to take aim at Geoff before you slammed into him. The shot went wild and the two of you struggled to grab the gun. You felt your own gun slip from its holster under your jacket and you slammed your forehead into his nose. The gun skittered away. He punched you in the stomach before you were heaved off him. Ryan snatched the fallen gun up, taking aim at the bastard when a voice called out.

In the scuffle, you hadn’t noticed the warehouse being filled with another crew. A woman stood out amongst the others, and she held a gun pointed at you. She tilted her head, a mask covering her features. “Would you be a dear and step away from him?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet. Ryan didn’t move, but you saw the slight waver of his gun. Was it because you were down the sights of a gun? From Ryan’s point of view, he could just as quickly surmise that it was pointed at him. Why hesitate? You could dodge out of the way before the woman could react to Ryan killing Slade, and you were wearing body armour.

Slade manages to get back on his feet and out of Ryan’s reach. Ryan didn’t follow him with his gun.

The woman strode over, heels echoing throughout the warehouse.

She stopped in front of Ryan and lifted her mask to reveal her bright lipstick. She pressed a kiss to Ryan’s mask and then smiled warmly.

You cleared your throat. The woman pulled her mask back down, turning her attention towards you.

“I’d really appreciate it if people stopped interrupting my fucking meeting,” you snapped, and the woman simply laughed. “Now, who the fuck are you? I like to know my victim's names before they end up six feet under.”

“I go by Atropos,” the woman responded, “I’m Slade’s second-in-command.”

You really, really didn’t give a fuck. You wanted to shoot Slade, but with both the Fakes and your crew surrounded? Besides the fact that Ryan currently was holding your gun, and Slade had picked up his already. You seethed. Ryan had a clear shot, and he didn’t take it. What about this woman made him so…distracted? You couldn’t see his face, so you couldn’t tell what emotions he was going through. All you knew was his body was tense and he hadn’t moved since she appeared. It was as if he thought if he didn’t move she wouldn’t notice him.

 “Now,” Atro-whatever turned her attention back to Ryan. “I hear you are playing well with others, Vagabond. That’s not like you. After all, you owe me a debt that I’ve come to collect.”

“I owe you nothing,” you barely heard Ryan’s voice, but the sound still sent a shiver up your spine. “Leave.”

“I don’t think so,” she retorted, “Because of you I wound up in jail for five years, and when I got out I was hunted down by your enemies. You owe me so much.”

“Enough,” Slade said, and pulled Atropos away from Ryan.

They were a safe enough distance away from Ryan now that you were able to dart forwards and yank the gun out of his hand. Slade shook his finger before you could pull the trigger. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you kill me? Well, I have an ace up myself.”

Atropos pulled a picture out of her pocket.

Jon.

“You kill me, or she and a sniper take out your precious friend.”

“The news anchor?” you laugh, even as ice slid through your veins, “Trust me, that’s where our acquaintance ends. He’s on tv.”

“I think we both know that’s bullshit,” Slade’s humour slipped off, “Who else could easily get the Vagabond and Dollface to work for her?”

He knew.

How the fuck did he know?

The smile grew on his face, and he looked at his partner. “Makeup only covers up so much, scars are very telling.”

What scars?

“Now, this is where we leave, and your world falls apart,” Slade tucked the photo away. “Just know, Lady SAI. I gave you the choice to join me. Everything that happens is your own fault.”

He turned around, Adam raised his gun but you grabbed his arm to stop him. You heard Slade laugh, and wave the rest of his crew out. The tension and anger in the room were so thick you could cut it with a knife. Your heart hadn’t stopped beating loudly in your ears since your scuffle, and your stomach was starting to ache where he punched you.

Just before he exited the warehouse, he turned around. “I didn’t mean the fall apart thing figuratively either,” he added, holding up a detonator and pressing the button down. “Let’s see you get out of this one.”

There wasn’t even time to calm down and assess the situation. A distant explosion shook the warehouse. All at once, everyone shot towards different exits. All locked or obstructed from the outside. You saw the panic in everyone’s eyes and a fight was starting to brew as people became accusatory. You saw Jack pull Caiti against her as another explosion sent a flash of light into the warehouse. They hadn’t even bothered to set up the main explosions in the actual warehouse they were in.

You had to think fast, and the adrenaline rushing through your body helped a lot. If there was no ground escape there would be…you looked up. Yes! The catwalks.

You whistled loudly at the group. “That catwalk leads to the roof!” you called out and quickly added before anyone could ask a follow-up question. “It’s our only option that I can see.”

It took not even a second before the ten of you were hurrying across the catwalks towards an emergency roof access. Another explosion shook the catwalk so hard you nearly fell off. You held tightly onto the railings. The explosion sent debris crashing through the closest windows. Glass sliced your skin, but you closed your eyes and continued on. You had to make sure everyone got out safe, even if you were furious with Geoff beyond words at the moment. You wouldn’t stoop to his level.

“Look at these plebs,” Gavin laughed, “Can’t even rig up a proper explosion, right boi?”

“Why even bother with the theatrics?” Michael’s voice was angry but you could almost detect a jovial tone underneath that fury. His voice got deeper as he mocked Slade, “I didn’t mean the fall down figuratively, look at me I’m so creative, hur dur de dur.’ C’mon! Throwing sticky bombs in from the ceiling would’ve been more effective. I think this guy just gets off at thinking he’s smarter than others.”

“Nah, we could escape sticky bombs, maybe with a casualty or two. If he really wanted to kill us, he should’ve caved the roof in. Circled the roof with explosions. Easier to deal with, and they could pick through the rubbage and make sure we’re dead,” Gavin responded and waved Meg outside before him.

“Idiot probably rigged the wrong building to explode too. Amateur!” this time, Michael laughed.

Adam was the last one out, and you saw what Slade had done. He hadn’t accidentally rigged the wrong building. He had started with the building you had posted most of your BTS to go first. You instantly whipped out your phone, ready to dial Mica to see if she and the others got out in time. Before you could, you saw the vehicle your crew had taken explode. The van flipped in the air before crashing heavily on its roof.  Pieces of debris flung into the air and Jack dodged a piece of flaming metal, nearly falling off the roof. Caiti grabbed her and stabilized her.

“This is all fun and games,” Geoff snapped, “but this doesn’t really help us.”

“It’s a fucking exit,” you snapped back at Geoff.

“There!” Meg shouted, “We should be good if we jump to that building. At least for a little while.”

No one bothered arguing. Moving was better than sitting still and hoping that the roof didn’t cave underneath your feet. Everyone took off into a dead run towards the other building. An explosion boomed behind you, a piece of concrete cracked into Adam’s shoulder and he stumbled beside you. You grabbed onto his arm and hauled him further along till he regained his footing.

 Your lungs were burning, and your muscles just screamed at you to stop. Fortunately, your mind was louder, screaming at you to run and keep going no matter what. You wouldn’t let Slade be the death of you. The others jumped the gap with ease. You? You weren’t as lucky, your foot slipped on the edge. Thankfully, Michael and Ryan both grabbed you before your body could drop into the alley between the two buildings. They flung you to the ground before both dropping onto their stomachs.

A huge boom sent your ears ringing and you were pelted with a shower of dust and debris. You covered your head the best you could, waiting for the dust to settle and the ringing to stop. You didn’t really want to take chances that there wouldn’t be another explosion, and neither did the others. Everyone stayed on the ground, keeping their heads covered.

You counted two minutes before you risked lifting your head. The others slowly got up, looking back at the building. Half of the warehouse was just pure rubble, the roof had completely caved in. Half of the group might’ve been fine from the explosion, but the result of the chaos would’ve killed them too or put them into urgent care. You had no doubt about that.

At least no one had to jump into a garbage can or into the cold ocean water to avoid the explosion all dramatically.

The thought brought a giggle out of your mouth, and in the sweet realization that you had survived, the giggle grew into a full out laugh. You laughed so hard tears squeezed from your eyes, and you heard the others join in the release of stress in pure laughter and giddiness.

“Fuck you, Slade!” Meg crowed, “We survived, you bastard!”


	13. Slipping Away

The laughter faded and in the silence, the sound of sirens was almost piercing.

It was time to get the hell out of there.

The others were already heading towards the fire escape at the back of the building. You sat for a moment longer before pushing to your feet. Adam and Ryan both waited for you. The moment you got to your feet, your vision went black. It came back almost instantly, but you were being lowered to the ground by Ryan. Adam dropped down, removing his shirt and shoving aside your jacket. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?!” Adam demanded angrily, “Caiti!” he shouted, “She needs the medic!”

“Told you what?” you asked, still feeling dizzy. “I’m fine…my hip hurts…I can walk.”

“You were stabbed!” Adam retorted, he placed his shirt on your stomach and began to apply pressure. “Fuck. It must’ve happened during your fight.”

“No, he punched me,” you denied, shoving him away. Ryan held your arms away.

“We have to get out of here,” Ryan addressed Adam, “If the police show up, she’s fucked. You know that.”

A heartbeat went passed before Adam swore and removed his belt. He wrapped the belt around your waist and tightened it so it put pressure on the wound. You refused to look down. If you didn’t look at it, you wouldn’t go into shock, right? You hadn’t gone into shock before. You couldn’t even remember if you’d ever been stabbed before. Then again, your mind was very…fuzzy right now. Ryan hauled you up, and the jostling of your head sent it limp against his shoulder. “How are you going to carry her down the ladder?” Adam asked, following quickly beside Ryan as the three of you headed towards the ladder.

“Hey,” Ryan addressed you this time, you looked up at him. His mask startled you…but then you remembered that he had always been wearing that. “Are you able to hold onto me?”

You shrugged and nodded at the same time. Technically you were.

When he got to the ladder there was some maneuvering, but you were successfully clinging to his back like a baby monkey. You felt cold.

Ryan was nearly on the ground. You glanced down, and all at once the blood rushed from your head and your grasp loosened. Ryan shouted at you but you couldn’t move your arms very well and you dropped. You closed your eyes, a rush of panic filling your body. Before you could hit the ground, someone caught you, and gently lowered you to the floor. “I caught her!” Jeremy’s voice filled your ears, your vision cleared and the blood returned to your head slowly. Your eyes met his and you saw him freeze. He said your name.

He pulled you tightly against him, repeating your name.

The sirens grew louder, and Adam pulled the two of you apart. He carefully picked you up, “Yes, it’s her. Right now, if we don’t get her out of here and to a medic, she really will be dead.”

That was the last thing you heard.

Until you were jolted awake. You slowly blinked, staring up at Jack. You reached up and rubbed one of your eyes. Jack smoothed some hair from your face, you saw tears in her eyes threatening to spill.

“Why’re you crying, mom?” you slurred out, “It’s okay…” you reached up, barely noticing the dried blood on your hand. You weakly pinched her cheek and the tears spilled free.

“She’s dying,” Jack sobbed, “Hurry!”

“’M not dying,” you weakly laughed, “I’m just tired…really tired.”

“Don’t go to sleep,” Jack begged, “Stay awake.”

She looked up but you were too lazy to look at where she was looking. At the television probably. Maybe Geoff had come to the apartment. Hopefully, he brought Jack some Mexican food. She loves that shit, and with how sad she looked, she deserved a burrito or a few tacos. “Fuck this!” a voice called out, “We just got her back and we’re going to lose her again? Hurry the fuck up!”

Your head snapped to the side, wanting to know who spoke. Your head cleared a bit as you took in your surroundings. You were in the back of a van. Seven people were crammed into the back, you were laying cradled by Jack. Ryan was keeping even pressure on your side, his mask abandoned off to the side, a look of deep regret on his features. You remembered now. The explosions. Slade. Atropos. Getting stabbed. You looked over at who had spoken, Jeremy. He was standing by the small window that peered to the front seats. Adam and Michael were most likely in the front seats. Jack pressed her wrist against your head.

“She’s getting clammy and cold.”

“I do feel cold,” you mutter, “but I’m fine-”

“Shut up!” Ryan barked, “You’re not fine, you’ve been stabbed.”

“I survived getting shot,” you slurred the words but you shot him a look. His mouth pressed into a hard line and he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

“I know this isn’t the time,” Lindsay leaned forwards in her seat, “but, what the fuck? I thought we were best friends! Best friends don’t keep being alive from each other.”

Jeremy looked down at you, and you saw in his eyes he agreed with Lindsay.

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “You guys think Imma die anyways, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Lindsay threw her hands in the air, “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“I’m sorry,” you felt yourself slipping from consciousness. You heard yourself repeating those two words over and over, the sound getting weaker and weaker. Jack patted your face, briefly bringing you back to the surface. You heard a distant fight. Words being traded back and forth. Words floated to your ears until you could grasp the concept of the fight, which was over before you realized it was Ryan and Jeremy fighting. Ryan defending you and Jeremy accusing you of something. From their past fights, you imagined the rest of the conversation. Maybe they were fighting about how you had told Ryan before your oldest friends, or maybe they were just being mean to each other. You wouldn’t put it past them.

The next time you woke up, you were laying in a hospital bed. Your mouth burned and your tongue was like sandpaper when you moved it. You felt light but oddly heavy at the same time. Kerry was replacing the IV hanging beside your bed, and he noticed very quickly that you had woken up. He gave you a smile and helped you sit up and drink water. You didn’t bother talking yet, your mind processing what had happened to the best of its ability. The last thing you remembered was nearly falling between the two buildings, but being yanked to safety. Everything after that was blurry, you might’ve climbed down a ladder, and you think you had been transported in a van? Other than that, when you focused too hard on trying to remember your mind would simply lose the memories.

It was frustrating, but Kerry explained that it was common for shock victims to have memory lapses prior to passing out. He explained that you had been stabbed, it was more superficial than they had originally thought but you hadn’t gotten it looked after quick enough and the simple stab had been aggravated and caused it to bleed more than your body could handle. He changed the bandage, showing you the stitches. He even explained that the blade most likely entered in an angle, missing organs. Hitting nothing but muscle.

“The wound itself wasn’t the issue,” Kerry added, “There was poison on the blade, however. If you hadn’t gotten to us in time, you probably would’ve died from the poisoning and not the stab. You were convulsing when they brought you in.”

“How did you know what I was poisoned with?” you asked, your voice scratchy and raw. You coughed, and he made you sip some more water before he replied.

“I asked the symptoms, they told me, and then Ryan knew what poison it was. Deadly nightshade,” Kerry said. He changed the subject from poison, filling you in on your other injuries. A rolled ankle, and then simple scrapes and bruises from debris and glass. He asked if you wanted to have some time to yourself or if you’d be okay with some company. You told him the others could come in if they’d like, you might fall asleep but you wouldn’t police them. He gave you another smile before excusing himself.

Once you were alone, you leaned back against the pillow.

Thoughts raced through your mind. Coming back to life was more complicated than you thought it would be. Hell, there was more drama in your life now than there was before you got involved with the Fakes. Back when your crew held power in drama. You rubbed your face feeling exhausted even by the simple motion.

Slade was probably getting off at the thought that he had killed you. Of course, he hadn’t. Nearly did, but didn’t. You were just waiting for the moment where you kill him. It’d be such a sweet victory. That thought alone did send a jolt through your body. In the past two years, you had become so okay with murder that it still shocked you when you realized it. You thought it was becoming a losing battle of your morals. Once this was over, you wouldn’t pick up a gun again unless it was to defend yourself. You wouldn’t let this affect you for the rest of your life.

You justified this murder because if you didn’t take Slade out he would kill you or someone you cared about. Any one of the Fakes had become such a part of your life it sent a deep pain through your body at the thought of any of them dying. You remembered when Ray was killed during a firefight with the Kingpins, still remembered his bloodied face, and you didn’t want to stumble across anyone else’s body like that again. Not if you could help it.

The door opened and Ryan walked in. He hadn’t cleaned his face of his face paint yet, the colours were smeared together from a combination of sweat and wear. He didn’t say anything when he entered, just walked up beside the bed and slid his fingers between your own and squeezed. His eyes searched your face before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. You returned the kiss and squeezed his hand in return.

“Do you know what happened to the BTS?” you blurted out, the thought springing to your mind instantly. You hadn’t had time to check up on them before your mind had blacked out. You couldn’t remember if you had spoken to any of them or if any of them were in the van or if you had even been in a van.

“They got out, one of them noticed the explosives before they were detonated. Only injuries, no deaths,” he reassured you, brushing his knuckles down the side of your cheek. “Everyone’s worried about you, and you’re here worrying about them.”

You leaned into his touch, “Of course I’m worried about them,” you muttered, it was then you noticed cuts on his face that had scabbed over. They were clearly untreated. You reached up and brushed one of the larger ones with a fingertip. He turned and kissed your fingers. “You’re hurt too.”

“It’s nothing” was all he said before sitting down on the bed. “I’m sorry.”

Anger surged through your body and you nearly removed your fingers from his. “What was that about,” you struggled to keep your voice level. “Who is this Atropos, and why does she scare you?”

“She doesn’t scare me,” Ryan snarled, and you felt his grip on your hand tighten. This time you did pull your hand from his grip, more due to the pinching feeling his grip had rather than out of fear. His reaction to it was as if you smacked him though, and his face fell. He didn’t try to take your hand again. “She’s not a threat to me…not anymore, but I’m not worried about myself. She’s from a time in my life that I’d rather forget but I know I’ll never be able to. I have to live with the consequences of it. You guys shouldn’t have to. If I had known she would come here? Well, you guys wouldn’t have had to worry about her.”

You put two and two together. His story about how he left Los Santos and came back the Vagabond. She was someone from that point in his life, and from the looks of things she wasn’t welcome back into his life. You had a feeling their relationship had been more than just the occasional partner unless the woman made it a habit to kiss people’s masks.

Besides, even if you wanted to bring it up, you were starting to feel exhaustion slip in making your mind fuzzy. You slipped your fingers back into his, “We’ll deal with her,” you promise, lifting his knuckles up to kiss each one. He gave you such a tender look that you felt the butterflies in your stomach. He kissed your forehead again and played with your fingers, telling you meaningless stories until you fell back asleep.


	14. Happiness

You weren’t allowed to overexert yourself for a week until the stitches could be removed. It wasn’t hard, your twisted ankle had you wheelchair bound anyways, so, you tasked yourself with gathering intel. You gathered as much as you could on this new player. Atropos. You found some articles on her from other cities like Liberty City, Vice City, and Las Venturas. Some did mention the Vagabond, but more often than not he was referred to as a ‘masked criminal’. Though, if you were being completely honest, the best source of information for her was your boyfriend. You just didn’t want to open that can of worms, he seemed reluctant to talk about it and you didn’t want to force him.

You were taking a break from research, taking a short nap on the couch in your office when you felt a blanket draped over you. You cracked open your eyes immediately, less startled than curious about who entered without you hearing. If it was someone trying to kill you, you really doubted they would cover you gently with a blanket before killing you. That was a waste of time.

Meg smiles down at you when you met her eyes, she tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’m glad you’re back, boss,” she winked at you in teasing, but the sentiment was genuine. You sat up and moved over so she could sit down beside you. “Jeremy and Lindsay will come around,” she patted your knee, “They’re stubborn and they don’t understand. I don’t want to explain your actions for you, it wouldn’t mean as much as it would if you do it.”

You nodded slowly, “I know…I just didn’t really expect everyone to learn that I was alive all at once. It’s kind of overwhelming,” you leaned back against the couch. “I’m not avoiding them, I just want them to have time to think about it before I talk to them.”

“Things are tense between them and Ryan, well…between everyone. Jeremy and Lindsay are both furious with Caiti and I. I mean, I know what they feel. I was furious that Ryan and Caiti didn’t tell me, but it’s not their place to do that.”

Speaking of not their place, you turn your head towards Meg. You didn’t know if you should bring it up, but it was the first time you and Meg were actually alone. Normally, Ryan or Adam was always in the room with you. If not either of them, Caiti was with you, or Jack. Hell, lately even Michael and Gavin hadn’t left you alone for too long. You had finally asked Adam early to keep everyone out of your office so you could have some alone time, and yes that included Ryan. How Meg managed to slip past Adam was curious but you didn’t care really.

“Meg,” you started and felt your throat go dry. Did you really want to know her side of things? What if she was in love with Ryan? What if she secretly was bitter about you being back? At the same time, it wasn’t fair of you to think that towards her. She was one of your best friends and she had the right to tell you her own feelings and not have you decide what she felt. “I…Ryan told me about you and him.”

She frowned slightly, and laughed, confused, “I mean…that was kind of obvious, wasn’t it? We showed up to your club together, we’ve been in the news for the longest time.”

You knew her well enough to know she wasn’t playing dumb. You just had to be more specific. “No, Meg, how you two-”

Her head whipped towards you, mouth slightly agape. “I-” she started but her mouth closed. It reopened and then snapped closed. She covered her face with one hand and you heard your name nearly whispered by her. When she lifted her head, her face was red and there were tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you reached out, touching her shoulder. She clung to your hand instantly, as if she let go that you would take back your words. “Ryan told me what happened, and you both thought I was dead.”

She sniffed and looked guilty at her lap. “I…he was just so fucked up when…when…” she shook her head and continued on, “Everyone else was so scared of him, and he started killing people…I just couldn’t stand by and let him fuck his life up. You wouldn’t have wanted that. We…we started working together and I was able to use his fury towards something more helpful than just blind rage. I started getting feelings for him when he seemed more like Ryan than he did the Vagabond. I stopped those thoughts though, believe me. I wouldn’t do that to you, to your memory. I refused to fall in love with a man you had fallen so in love with. One day…” she stopped herself and you wanted her to stop, each word felt like a knife in your heart but you squeezed her arm.

“Tell me,” you murmured. She nodded slowly and exhaled slowly.

“One day, we got back from a…session,” she said that and you could tell she wasn’t a fan of these sessions. From her face, you knew it was torture. Ryan had simply said the men had messy deaths, and well…you knew the Vagabond’s reputation. “He came into the bathroom and we just…it was only ever a release for both of us. That first time, I thought maybe he was starting to get over you,” she quickly corrected herself. “I mean that in, he was accepting your death and realizing you weren’t coming back. However, the next time...he moaned your name and I realized he wasn’t. I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“I want to know,” you reassure her. “If you had known I was alive and had slept with him, I would never forgive you. This…this is different, and it hurts. It hurts real bad, but I can’t fault either of you for it. How long ago…when was the last time…”

“A year ago,” she promised, “We…finished and I realized that that wasn’t good for either of us. He wasn’t in a good mental state, and it was just getting worse. I knew if we kept it up we might’ve not been able to stop, and I’m so fucking glad we stopped. If you…if you had shown up and we were still…” she shook her head, “I can barely even forgive myself for sleeping with him back then if I found out you were alive and I had just slept with your boyfriend the night before? God…I just…” she closed her eyes and covered her face with her other hand. You patted the hand holding yours. “I told him we were done and I went out that night and I met Gavin….We’ve been dating ever since. He knows I slept with Ryan and at first he wasn’t okay with it, and after he figured out you were alive? Gav was just…he was furious with both me and Ryan.”

You smiled at that. “Is he still upset about it?”

She nodded slightly.

“I’ll talk to him about it.”

Meg sniffled again. “I messed up.”

“Ryan said the same thing,” you told her, trying to sound as reassuring as you could. There was only one thing really sitting unwell with you, and that was the fact that Ryan had made it sound like it only happened once. Though, with Meg dating Gavin, you felt better. Ryan and Meg had both put that part of their lives behind them and moved on with regrets. You leaned towards her and pulled her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around you tightly and murmured an apology into your ears.

The door burst open and you both jumped apart. Meg had a gun pointed over the back of the couch and even with the puffy teary eyes, she looked ready to kill. Though, it was just Lindsay and Jeremy. They walked over, standing shoulder to shoulder. Both of them held their heads high and chests puffed out. Meg clicked the safety back on and wiped at her eyes. Jeremy stepped forwards, he had his arms behind his back and he fixed you with a scowl.

“You have some explaining to do,” he demanded.

“Yeah!” Lindsay seconded stepping forwards.

“I’m-” you start but Jeremy shook his head.

“Why are you two chilling up here and we weren’t invited?” he accused, “I am hurt.”

“Yeah!” Lindsay seconded again, starting to sound like a parrot. You sputtered out a laugh, that was not what you were expecting. Jeremy pulled out a gift basket from behind his back, and a balloon floated up from behind Lindsay’s back that said ‘get better’ on it. You stared, mouth open like a fish as Jeremy dropped the gift onto your lap and Lindsay placed the little balloon weight on the table.

“What is this? I thought you guys were mad at me?” you sputtered out, staring at the sweets inside the basket.

Lindsay placed a hand on your shoulder, “We still are. We also know that you put way too much blame on yourself and hold yourself up to such impossible standards. You’ll tell us why you didn’t want to tell us when you’re up to it. Besides, you were just stabbed and almost died, again.”

Jeremy rubbed his bald head with one hand, “Lindsay also saw all the medications you’re currently on, and she felt bad for yelling at you.”

Lindsay smacked him, “You saw them!”

You began laughing at the two of them, and they joined in. Jeremy grinned after the laughter faded. “Well, the Bombshells are almost complete again.”

“It’s as complete as it’ll ever be again,” Meg pointed out. “Well, we just need Caiti up here and it’ll be complete since Jon is out of the game.”

You remember Slade’s threat and you asked immediately about Jon.

“He’s safe, we’ve got eyes on him constantly. We need to tell him so he can be more attentive to his surroundings,” Jeremy advised, and you nodded in agreement.

Jeremy jumped over the back of the couch and landed neatly between you and Meg. He began undoing the string that held the basket closed. You chuckled and let him take the basket off your hands. You made room for Lindsay on the couch and she plopped down beside you. The four of you barely fit on the couch, but you were comfortably squished between Lindsay and Jeremy. There were many nights where the four of you would sleep in the same bed after having to go into hiding after a heist, that was before Jon and Caiti joined the crew. You smiled happily and accepted some candied fruit from Jeremy. Lindsay reached over to snatch some from you, but you caught her hand.

“Look at that!” you said happily, “It’s beautiful!” A soft smile spread across her face as you cooed over it. “I’m happy for you! Did I miss the wedding? Do you have pictures?”

“We’re getting married next year sometime, we’re not going to focus on it until after this thing with Slade is over,” she explained, a happy fondness in her voice. You felt bad, you might’ve missed such a big part of her life if you had continued being a coward. You didn’t even deserve to ask to know any details really, you felt bad enough. “Of course, I still need one more bridesmaid. I already have a maid-of-honor, so I can’t ask you that…but I think you owe me. You’re going to have to wear a dress of my choosing and stand in front a bunch of mine and Michael’s friends and family and cry.”

You laughed at that, but the laugh quickly dissolved into tears. Both Jeremy and Lindsay reacted instantly to that, not crying as well but trying to get you to stop. Jeremy shoved more treats into your hands and Lindsay changed the subject, joking around about how Michael and Gavin were both making a mess of your club downstairs so the three of them could be up there. You cuddled into her side, and munched happily on the treats, even with a tear-streaked face.

You were happy.


	15. Confessions

You had convinced the others to let you leave the club by yourself for once. You were getting stir crazy, and yes, it was safer if you took someone else with you, but really, you needed time by yourself outside of your office, apartment or wherever else you were holed up. It had been the longest time since you had gone shopping for yourself, and Ryan had asked you on a date. When you asked him the dress code, he said not casual but not like cocktail party fancy either. You had searched the clothing shops in downtown Los Santos until you found a dress you like. The skirt was flowy but wouldn’t get in the way in case you had to move, and if you wanted you could stash a weapon under the skirt and no one would notice. The top showed off you cleavage nicely. You had a pair of shoes and jacket that would match it back in your apartment. You had enough clothes really, that you didn’t need more, but you getting the dress wasn’t about the clothes really. It was about getting time by yourself.

Now, your hip was hurting, your knee was quickly joining in on the pain, and you were getting annoyed by how many people were around you.

It was a short trip to your car, and you were grateful for that.

A limo was parked behind your car when you turned the corner and you saw a group of women giggling and heading to a nearby restaurant. You found yourself wanting to take the girls out for a girls night, rent a limo and everything. Oh, that would be a great idea for Lindsay’s bachelorette party.

The limo door opened as you passed, maybe you were wrong...maybe, it wasn’t those women’s limo. The thought barely finished before a hand clamped over your mouth and you were dragged quickly into the limo. You fought. Of course, you fought. Biting down on the hand covering your mouth elicited a familiar yelp, and a quick elbow to the ribs let you break free. Before you could claw your way back out of the limo another pair of arms yanked you off balance, you fell hard to the floor and the limo door slammed closed. The vehicle was pulling away before you could get off the floor.

Once the vehicle was moving on one grabbed for you, and you quickly assessed the situation.

Jack and Geoff sat on the limo seats. Geoff was busy assessing the damage you had done to his hand, and at the same time rubbing his ribs with his other hand. “Fucker,” he muttered shaking the bitten hand.

“That’s what you get,” you hissed, carefully pulling yourself onto the other seat. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

“Listen,” Jack started but Geoff patted her knee and she fell silent. She looked torn and you crossed your arm. You were already pissed at Geoff, and now the feeling was seeping over to Jack as well. Did she know about the hit? Why had she ever let Geoff around you if that was the case? You were starting to wonder if she was involved in it as well. You stayed silent, waiting for an explanation as Geoff adjusted his jacket.

Geoff didn’t meet your eyes, you didn’t know if that was because he couldn’t or he didn’t want to. Either way, you made sure that he could feel your eyes burning him as you glared.

“I…did accept a hit on you,” he admitted, and your fingers dug into your arms. He picked up a folder beside him on the seat and handed it to you. You took it and flipped it open. He was silent as you read the information. “That’s the original letter Diamond sent me asking me to accept the hit. I was between crews at that time and was just trying to get money. I hadn’t…I wasn’t and still am not a hitman. That’s not who I am, and I should’ve done more research on the target before accepting. Instead, I just saw your name, a vague description, a location, and that was it. I accepted it.”

Jack was silent until that point, and she leaned towards you. Her hand slightly rose towards you but then fell when you didn’t react to it. She said your name and your eyes flicked towards her. “Geoff told me about the hit.”

“You knew,” you confirmed and closed the folder and tossed it onto the floor of the limo. “This is bullshit. You take me into your home, make me feel wanted, and now I figure out you both were in on it?”

Jack’s face crumpled, “You were wanted, you are. I still consider you my daughter-”

“Don’t,” you snapped.

“I showed up at the address, I was going to assess the person first and see if the address was correct. However, a little girl answered the door, and a few moments later, one of my best friends showed up behind her,” Geoff admitted, and then he pulled out a picture from the inside pocket of his jacket. He looked at the photo for a moment before meeting your eyes. “If I had just done my damn research I would’ve known who you were and refused the contract. I tried to get it annulled. I would take the consequences of breaking a contract, even if it ruined my reputation. I demanded to know why he wanted you dead, he told me. I told him where to stuff it but he dogged me for ten years. Finally, I snapped. I showed up and Jack and I got into a gunfight with him and his crew. We had nearly killed every one of those fuckers, blew up their base of operations, killed half their guys. Diamond…the fucking asshole held up a picture and told me he knew that Jack and I were hiding you, and you were no longer a child.”

He handed the photo to you. It was well worn, the centre of the photo was cracked and white from where it had been folded and unfolded so many times. It as a photo from outside the old apartment. You were probably nineteen in the photo, that was at the peak of your grunge years. That was also when Geoff found out you were smoking and yelled at you for it. How you were going to get cancer and die young. They were his cigarettes you stole as well, which he added as an afterthought to scold you for stealing. Though, that was never really an issue. They taught you that stealing was only okay if it was from rich assholes, which you remember you had talked back to him about that and he you almost got away with it until Jack stepped in.

Your eyes danced across the photo, you were placing a cake in front of Geoff, mouth opened in song. Jack was holding a present, smiling at the two of you. You couldn’t really tell from the photo, but Geoff had started crying when you brought out the cake and was singing. He teased you later on that he was crying because your singing was so bad, but you both knew it was because he was a sentimental-ass person. You didn’t have much money, you had just graduated high school and you were saving up to go to university at that time. Jack had offered to purchase the gift for you, but instead, you had cross stitched a pillow for him. It said ‘cunt’ in cursive and had vines around the edges with a pink heart beneath it. You had spent so long doing it, and your fingers had been so sore. You didn’t realize you were smiling till you glanced up and saw the hesitant smiles on the both of them. You forced your face back into a neutral look.

“He knew where you lived,” Geoff moved forwards, his voice pleading with you. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t let him hurt you.” His voice cracked. “We…I knew what needed to happen. You needed to disappear, and Jack and I needed to run so he couldn’t track you through us. I never-NEVER accepted the hit money, then or now. I didn’t want you to be brought into this world, but I fucked up so bad and now here we are.”

He burst into tears. You still wanted to be mad, but Jack nodded her head.

“After the warehouse, I thought he had accepted the money too. I forced him to show me his bank account. The amount of money he supposedly got never entered his account or left it. Any of his accounts. Unless he’s hiding a bunch of cash somewhere, he didn’t accept the money,” she explained, “If I thought for a second that Geoff had conspired to kill you? I’d shoot him in the head myself.”

You let Geoff sniffle and sob across the limo for a while before you moved over and pulled him into a hug.

“I forgave you for leaving, don't forget that. Just…you should've been honest with me, then and now about _why_ you left. No more secrets," you murmured.

He nodded into your shoulder.

“So,” you pulled away from him, keeping your hand on his back but making him look in your eyes. “This is the best time to tell me that my father was secretly super rich and has recently died so I get a huge mansion in Rockford Hills and a huge fortune.”

“You wish,” Jack teased, “You’ll have to kill Geoff and forge his will if you want a huge fortune.”

Geoff protested loudly, while you and Jack burst into giggles.


	16. Let's Get The Show On The Road

Geoff and Jack had the limo take you straight back to the club. You pick up the forgotten bag off the bottom of the limo floor, the dress still inside. Thank god. If you had lost the dress during the struggle you would’ve clocked Geoff just for that. More so out of the inconvenience than anything else. Geoff hadn’t been to your base yet and was questioning why you wanted to go to a club as got the limo to go around the back way. You led the two of them in through the garage and up towards your office. “This is where SAI operates out of,” you explain, “Slade knows where it is, but it’s way too public to attack. Especially at night when we’re more likely to be here. I also have insurance out the roof for this place. He blows it up? I have enough insurance to buy two more clubs.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully as you opened the door to your office.

In hindsight, you should’ve announced the situation first.

Geoff was against the wall in a second, knife pressed into his throat. You saw blood trickle from the edge of the blade and you quickly grabbed Ryan’s shoulder. “Ryan, stop!”

“Why should I?” Ryan snarled but removed the knife from Geoff’s throat. You saw the blade swing dangerously close to Geoff’s eye and dug your fingers harder into Ryan’s shoulder. You explained the situation, and Ryan lowered the blade. Though his other hand was still griping Geoff’s shirt tightly, knuckles white. “Care to explain to me why you had to kidnap her to explain yourself?” Ryan asked, “Because I have a feeling if I kidnapped you, you wouldn’t enjoy that.”

Ryan couldn’t have known that…unless.

You raised your bag and thwacked it across the back of his head. It surprised Ryan enough that he let go of the other gent and turned to give you a questioning look. “Don’t stalk me!” you jabbed him in the chest with your finger, “You do it again, and I swear to god.”

He gave you a sheepish look, but you ignored it. The rest of the crew was present, and now all the Fakes. You thought it was funny how quickly the Fakes made themselves at home in your base of operations. Sometimes when you were gone, you noticed another couch was added to make room for all of them.

“Now that this is sorted,” you gestured to Geoff and Ryan, “Adam, can you get a band-aid for Geoff’s neck?” you asked and walked over to the television. Adam went to your desk to grab the first aid kit. “We can focus our efforts on something much more important and pressing. We need to take Slade the fuck out. He has a personal vendetta against the Fakes, specifically Geoff. Why?”

“I don’t know the guy,” Geoff shrugged, “I mean more than you do.”

“Griffon sent me an email when you were out,” Meg said and you got her to send you the email, asking her to sum it up for you. “Slade was not the kind of guy who was content with playing second fiddle. Adam could probably attest to that.”

The large man nodded, “Slade like to think he was second-in-command but I was. I let him think whatever he wanted. He disagreed with a lot of shit that Diamond did, but not like me. I thought Diamond was going about his business wrong. He allowed petty insults dictate how he treated someone. I think if you hadn’t been so…outspoken, he wouldn’t have really bothered with you. Until he figured out who you really were. Slade thought that Diamond wasn’t forceful enough and didn’t follow through with enough threats.”

“He didn’t,” you said drily, “Even when he was paying me visits while his goons were torturing me. It was all talk and no action. He threatened a lot of shit and only half was carried out. But, he threatened too much, and so I stopped caring about his threats.”

You saw a ripple of different emotions through the group in front of you. Anger, sadness, guilt. You ignored all of them and nodded for Meg to continue her report.

“Apparently, from Griffon’s sources. Slade is furious that Diamond let the Fakes get away with so much. He was pissed that the Kingpins were not even the second most powerful crew in Los Santos. The fact that his boss was killed by anyone besides the most powerful man in Los Santos really burned him. He wants to get rid of the Fakes, or at least weaken them enough so they’re not powerful. Instead of climbing the ladder by building up his empire and proving to the city that he’s a force to be reckoned with. He wants to just kill the Fakes, and apparently SAI, so his crew would be considered the most powerful.”

“If you ask me,” Jeremy snorted, “I think this guy is overcompensating for something.”

The group laughed, snorted at the joke and you shook your head, but couldn’t keep the grin off your face.

“Regardless if Slade has a small dick or not,” you gave Jeremy a mock disappointed look, “He has proved to be a thorn in our side. That much we can all agree on. We need information. How much power does he actually have in Los Santos? How many businesses does he own? Warehouses? Stocks? Where does he keep his money, which banks? How many accounts? Does he have any offshore accounts?” you paced slightly listing off the information you wanted to know. You saw Meg and Gavin taking notes on their phones. “How many people work for him? That sort of thing. I doubt Slade believes we're dead. They’ve reported no casualties in the news in regards to the warehouse explosions. He most likely expects a Fake AH Crew typical backlash, the dramatics, and explosions.”

“Show the bastard how to really blow someone up,” Michael cracked his knuckles with a grin. “Hit him hard, hit him fast.”

“We’ll get there,” you promised, “but first. Slade knows I’m alive. So, I’m going to show him how I rose a crew from dirt to riches.”

You saw Meg and Lindsay grin at each other.

“Meg, Gavin, Ryan. You three are in charge of getting as much information as we can on Slade. Torture, bribe, hack. Whatever you need to do. I want to know the names of everyone he’s talked to, and I want to know every damn safehouse that bastard has. I want to take every penny he has. Donate it to an even spread of charities across the city. Focus on homeless shelters. The moment either of them finds a single business or warehouse? Micheal and Jeremy will do recon. Figure out ways to destroy it. I’m talking explosions or theft. Don’t actually blow anything up yet. If he get’s regular shipments of something? I want those trucks run off the road. Jack and Lindsay. We are going to need guns, bombs, cars, helicopters. The whole nine yards. If you steal it from Slade? Even better,” you grinned at the two of them. You knew it would be weird matching some of them up with each other even though they had never worked together before, but that was for the best. They would help each other learn different tips and tricks. “Caiti, I’m not going to ask too much of you since you’ve got the woman’s shelter to deal with as well. However, we’re going to need fresh safe houses. I don’t know what Slade knows about us but I’m not taking chances. Adam will help you, and you have the disposal of the BTS crew to help you out with whatever you need.” Jeremy raised his hand and you had to stop from laughing at that. You nodded your head towards him.

“What about Geoff? What about you?” Jeremy asked. “What’re you guys gonna be doing?”

“You two aren’t allowed to be on the same team,” Jack slapped her hand on the coffee table. “Last two fucking times you were, you ended up being kidnapped.”

“Geoff and I have a date,” you said, pretending to be offended. “Los Santos needs to be formally introduced to Lady SAI.”

Ryan shook his head, “No.”

You deflated a bit, “Okay. Geoff and I will be planning the heists.”

“Heists?” Jack asked, sounding apprehensive. You nod, Geoff looked at you curiously but approvingly.

“There’s always a huge charity ball held by the mayor. Geoff and I will attend with some backup and rob the place. The media and police will be so focused on that, that they’ll barely notice while you guys rob a shit ton of Slade’s business’ and send his warehouse’s up in flames. It’s the best combination of the Fakes and the Bombshells. We take Slade down both financially and reputation wise. Los Santos’ underground will see how many places we hit in one night, and see how his crew will never, ever, measure up to ours,” you smile at the group. Their apprehension didn’t fade and you sighed. “Or! Geoff and I can just go in guns blazing without any backup, cus that works so well for us.”

Geoff barked out a laugh.

“Now, does anyone have any questions?” you asked, you could people didn’t really have questions per ce, they wanted to rearrange the teams so you and Geoff weren’t working together. You couldn’t say their worry was unwarranted, but you would make sure they were all well aware of the heists prior to the actual date. “Good,” you said when no one spoke up, “Then, let’s get started.”


	17. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to upload this yesterday but for some reason, the site kept freezing/crashing whenever I tried. Who knows why. Anyways! Here you go!

You felt your leg bouncing in anticipation. It would be the first time in nearly two years that you’ve had all the Bombshells together. Jon was on his way to meet up with the crew for brunch. He still didn’t know you were alive, and you felt guilty for not saying anything to him even though the others had known for a month or more now. However, he was truly out of the game. He was purely a news anchor and nothing more. He had his entire criminal history erased. Any single ounce of information someone could dig up about his illegal past was gone. Not that he had much, he had just been a scam artist for a majority of his affiliation with your crew.

You didn’t want to inform Jon that he wasn’t truly safe. Someone knew who he was, and they’d kill him if they found the smallest reason to do so.

Jeremy touched your knee, and your leg stopped bouncing. “It’s gonna be okay,” he reassured, “Jon’s going to be happy to see you. You know him, he won’t hold this against you.”

“I feel like we shouldn’t tell him,” you muttered quietly, staring at the menu in front of you. Jon was running late, your group had already sat down. You had been looking at the menu for probably ten minutes and you still hadn’t read anything.

“Yes, because things go great when you don’t inform people of what’s happening,” Meg said dryly. You shot her a look but ultimately remained silent. She wasn’t wrong.

“He has a right to know, and besides, he’ll want to see you regardless of whether or not you give him bad news to go along with the good,” Caiti reassured you. The waitress came back around with coffee and tea for the group. You thanked her. You hadn’t even seen Jon before someone plopped down into the booth beside you. You jumped, moving closer to Jeremy. He squeezed your knee.

“So, what’s the occasion? The last time we did this was when Lindsay got married? Whose got good news today? “Jon grinned at the group, eyes looking at everyone before they finally landed on you. You saw the smile fade into shock. His eyes moved to look across the table at the others, before flicking back to you. “No,” he said in disbelief and shook his head. “No, this is not real.”

“You got a tattoo on your left butt cheek of a bomb from when you lost a bet to me four years ago,” you announced, and his eyes widened even further. If that was possible. You smile at him and he pulled you into a hug.

“It’s good to see you! I knew you were alive.”

“Really?” you laughed, feeling the happy tears that had become so common lately springing to the surface. “How did you know?”

Jon pulled away, but the conversation stalled as the waitress came back to the table. She took Jon’s drink order and everyone ordered. The less the woman had to come back to the table, the better. Once she left, Jon wiped at his eyes and adjusted his hair bun before taking hold of your hand. He squeezed and you returned the gesture. “It’s a whole thing,” he started and laughed, “I just…the big tough guy who helped you out was there. Why betray his boss by helping you out and then not rescue you? I thought it was really weird. Especially when I heard Spades was still alive. If I was Clubs I wouldn’t have let Spades get away and you to die. I tried to tell the others but they were so resolute you were dead…”

A guilty look passed on the others faces. Caiti shifted in her seat and opened her mouth to speak but it was Meg who spoke first. “Ryan was…inconsolable. We couldn’t find Clubs after either, so we surmised he took the opportunity to disappear and start a new life. If Ryan thought there was a chance you were alive he would’ve done everything to find you…but we were so certain you were dead we didn’t want to put the idea that you might not dead.”

You couldn’t blame any of them really. If you were in their situation you would’ve surely thought that you were dead, and giving people false hope about something like that? That would just be cruel. You were surprised that Jon thought you were alive.

“I…” Jon rubbed his mouth for a moment, “The others are going to hate me for this…but I figured out you were alive when you broke out of jail.”

“What?” Lindsay asked, “That was…over a year ago!”

“Why..why didn’t you say anything to me?” you asked, surprised. Jon knew you had been alive for this long and hadn’t reached out to you. “I know you wanted to have a normal life…but…”

“I didn’t say anything…because you had just escaped from jail,” Jon gave everyone a pointed look. “The police were on high alert, and I knew about it because I have a source for the Know in the prison you were kept. They said a high-level criminal had escaped, and after a bit of pressing, they told me your real name. I was sworn to not say anything, to anyone I knew or to make an article about it. If two crews who previously were ignoring each other and hated each other suddenly started getting all buddy-buddy again whom they know were both associated with you? LSPD would know, and we’d all be fucked if they did some digging. I couldn’t exactly reach out and talk to you after just getting the information about you.”

“Why not say something, I don’t know, six months ago when they would stop looking?” Jeremy asked, scowling at Jon.

“Because you guys were so adamant that she was dead, and after she escaped I didn’t know where she went. I thought she fled the city, and I was happy for her,” Jon looked at you when he said this, “but you didn’t leave, and now we’re all sitting here. In the end, it all worked out.”

“He’s got a point,” you admitted and placed your other hand on your combined hands. “Would you have wanted me to say something to you?”

He looked at the table thoughtfully and then looked up at you. “Don’t hate me for this? But I want to say yes, but I’ve put my past behind me. I…don’t want to get involved with the bad side of the law again. I want to still be your friend and all.”

“You just don’t want to be incriminated for it,” you finished his unspoken words. Yes, it hurt…but you understood where he was coming from. You also knew that if he wanted to leave his past behind him, you had no place telling him that he couldn’t or that you wanted to involve him with anything that you were going to plan. Still, that made it harder for what you still had to tell him. He still needed to know someone was targetting him for previously being a Bombshell. You didn’t want to risk Slade not being like Diamond, you felt like he would follow through with his threats. “Look. Jon. Without telling you too much, someone knows who you are, and has threatened to kill you if we piss him off.”

Jon looked at the faces of the others and saw the truth throughout all of their eyes. He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. “A woman approached me at work the other day asking about the leader of the Bombshells…I told her that there hadn’t been any sign of the woman in such a long time she’s old news. The woman just seemed, adamant that I must know more. Then she started to flirt, but I told her I needed to get ready for my day and kicked her out of my office. I guess she’s working with your new enemy?”

“Old enemy, but yeah,” Jeremy huffed, and drank some of his orange juice. “Remember Spades? Asshole goes by Slade now.”

Jon drummed his fingers on the table, “At least his name sounds cooler now. At least he didn’t go for Blades.”

You snorted at that. “He has that going for him.”

“I’ll keep my eye out. You guys don’t have to worry about me. I wasn’t in a crew for nearly six years for nothing. I know how to defend myself,” Jon said, attempting to reassure you guys.

“Yeah,” Lindsay nodded, “and she’s been in a crew longer than you and has almost died more times than I can count on one hand. Three times in the past, what, two years?”

You scowled at her. A few well-placed quips and the table was drawn to lighter topics and teasing. It was soothing, it was as if nothing had changed, nothing happened. It was as if it was three years ago, getting together after a successful heist where the Fakes didn’t ruin your plans. You took a moment as Lindsay and Jon threw jesting insults back and forth, to look at your old crew and see how much they had changed.

Meg’s hair had gone through so many hair colour changes. Blue, pink, purple, red, brown. She had returned to red recently. Even though she had been the Vagabond’s partner for so long, you saw she didn’t really change. She was still elegant and feminine. Her nails delicately painted, clothes carefully picked out, makeup artfully applied. She looked every bit the model she was, and not a single ounce of the criminal. It was amazing, after so long in the game, she didn’t have a single visible scar on her body. You didn’t know if she used some secret mixture of creams, or hell if she did blood sacrifice to look so flawless, but you wanted her secrets. She’d give you some sort of sarcastic response, but be delighted about the comment.

Jeremy’s hair had also gone through so much change. He had dyed it an assortment of colours before he had completely shaved it. He was still as strong as he ever was and sported a few newer scars. Working with the Fakes guaranteed that. A dangerous lifestyle brought on all sorts of marks. His eyes had dark circles, and he seemed a lot wiser and tired than he ever did when he worked for you. If none of the others were paying attention to him, you noticed the minute shaking of his hands, the zoning out. He wasn’t the man you knew, he had been through shit since you had died. You wanted to ask him, but you felt like he’d deny that he was different and not tell you anything. If he wanted to say something, you knew he’d come to you. As much as you wanted him to tell you…you couldn’t force him too.

Caiti was the same as ever. A warm ray of sunlight in the darkness of your life. Always there with a quick smile and a kind word, but just as easily she could toss words around with the crew. You knew that there was very little that could happen that would change her. You couldn’t imagine her losing that warmth, that smile. It hurt you to think of someone kidnapping her. Of doing the same things that happened to you to her. You suddenly wanted to pull her into a tight hug and tell her that she needed to be like Jon, she needed to put this life behind her. You’d never forgive yourself if anything happened to her, and you knew Jack wouldn’t forgive herself either. Neither of you could convince Caiti to leave. She had joined your crew to change your mind, and years later neither of you had changed your opinions of the criminal lifestyle you led. It was admirable.

Jon, he was the same, but at the same time, he was completely different. His personality hadn’t changed a bit since he left the criminal underground and started reporting on it. You were surprised that he hadn’t doned a more…business look to him. His hair was still long, and he still dressed how he wanted to. Stylish but you could never see him in a three-piece suit. The familiarity was comforting. You wondered how much Jon altered in his stories? Did he report on certain crews, revealing more information that would lead the cops to them, and retain information on other crews which gave the cops nothing to go by? He was the one who stayed the same, but truly changed the most, you felt.

As for Lindsay? You had known her the longest, and she had changed the most. From the tomboyish kid to the theatre nerd in high school with a bullying streak, to the fast punching criminal. You looked across at her with her bright red hair and saw that she had changed again. At some point since you drowned, she had matured in a way. She was a leader, and she put more stock in her appearance. Her hair was curled, she was wearing an outfit instead of just jeans and a random teeshirt. She was attentive to her surroundings, but she wasn’t jumpy about them. You knew why Geoff had given her his crew to lead while he went into hiding, and you were so proud of her.

You were proud of your entire crew, they had achieved so much without you that you nearly felt guilty for coming back. You squashed down those feelings quickly, knowing that each and every one of them would be pissed if you admitted that out loud.

After paying for your meals, Jon stopped you before you could climb into Meg’s car. He slipped you a piece of folded up paper.

“In case you need to contact me, for whatever. You need me to get out of Los Santos for a while? Call me here, use a disposable phone or payphone. If I do get caught, I don’t want people to be able to trace me back to you. For both our sakes,” he said, before pulling you into a hug. “When you’re out of this mess, give me a shout. I did a photo shoot for Meg and another for Lindsay, I’d like to add you to my portfolio.”

“Becoming a photographer are we?” you asked, hugging him back. He nodded into your shoulder.

“Well, I am a photographer, but I’d like to become one professionally. I do a bunch of shoots for Meg for her modeling portfolio, but I don’t have many other clients.”

“I can’t wait,” you pulled back, “Stay safe, Jon.”

“I will. I promise.”


	18. When Tensions Get Too High

A week later, and you felt the stress of all the new elements getting you. Jon’s life being in danger, the new woman barging in on your already full enemy list, and that was just added to the other stresses of your life. Chronic pain, random spikes of mobility issues, not to mention the depression and PTSD you took medication and therapy for. Speaking of, you had just gotten back from your latest therapy session. You always felt drained and on edge after therapy sessions, they took a lot out of you, but you felt better after a nap or the next morning. You entered your apartment, tossing your bag onto the floor and kicking off your shoes. A quick stretch and you spot a jacket hanging over the back of a chair. It wasn’t familiar. You reached under your jacket and pulled out your gun. You flicked off the safety but kept your finger off the trigger. It could be Adam coming to check on the security or see if you needed any more of your medication. If it was, you really didn’t want to shoot him. You keep your back to the wall and creep further into your apartment. You only had to get to the corner and check the kitchen to see a familiar sight.

“Ryan!” you scolded loudly. He looked over at you. The surprise on his face more from the scolding rather than catching him off guard. You had come into your apartment like an elephant. If he hadn’t noticed that, you had to get his hearing checked. “Why didn’t you say anything when I entered? Or texted me that you were here? I could’ve shot you!”

“You wouldn’t have,” he said simply and turned around with a store bought platter of meats and cheeses in one hand and carefully held wine glasses in the other. “Do you want wine? I don’t even know if you own wine, I couldn’t find any.”

He headed to your couch and placed the platter on the coffee table. You felt a bit irritated still that he had barged into your apartment without asking if it was alright first, but you squashed the feelings down. You’d been dating long enough and were at each other's apartments so often that you felt like moving in together would just be simpler. So, with a sigh, you headed into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine from the recesses of your cabinets, uncorked it, and grabbed a can of diet coke. Walking over you opened the can and poured the contents into his wine glass. In yours went the wine.

“How’s Jon?” he asked, snatching a piece of cheese and then resting his arm on the back of the couch. You cuddled into his side with the platter in your lap. He kissed your head as you plucked a grape off the stem and plopped it into your mouth. You told him about the entire meeting, and he listened quietly. When the story was finished he offered no real comment, just a simple ‘that’s good’. You knew he must have more of an opinion than that, but didn’t ask him for it. If he didn’t say it, it wasn’t worth him saying it. That’s how he worked.

The silence that stretched on afterward was just too tense for your liking. Something was…off. He hadn’t even suggested watching a movie or tv show along with the drinks and platter. You sat up, placing the platter of food back on the coffee table. “What’s bothering you?” The look he gave you was almost a bitter acceptance. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one acting off.”

He sighed and took a swig of his fancy diet coke. “I’m just worried.”

That…surprised you, in a very bad way. You were sure a lot of things worried him, but for him to tell you so plainly? Just how worried was he, and more importantly, what made him worry? You placed a hand on his thigh and he dropped his hand onto yours. His thumb idly stroked your wrist.

“About?” you asked after he said nothing more.

“A lot of things,” he said.

“Don’t do that, if you don’t want to tell me, just say that. Don’t dance around the subject.”

His blue eyes met yours, he reached up and brushed some hair back from your face. “I love you.”

“What did you do?” you asked, smacking his hand away from your face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You’ve got enough to worry about. I was trying to change the subject,” Ryan said, looking mildly hurt that you smacked his hand away. “I don’t need to add to your worries.”

“So, you broke into my apartment, brought me a cheese platter, and wanted to drink wine, for nothing?” you asked.

“For nothing? Spending time with you when we aren’t being chased around with guns or having others breathing down our necks is nothing to you?”

“That’s not what I meant, why are you being so difficult?”

He frowned and then said your name in an attempt to calm you down. “You’re looking into this too much. If my worries become actual then I’ll let you know.”

You pressed your lips together, “Is this about that woman? Albatross or whatever?”

“Atropos,” he murmured, “and it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not acting like yourself,” you pointed a finger at him. “Just tell me what it is about her that has your walls up.”

“Stop pushing,” his voice was a razor edge and your confidence faltered slightly. The tension in the air grew ten times as his eyes gave you an icy look. Part of you knew that you should drop it, trust that he’d tell you but…really…you couldn’t stop yourself.

“I need to know about her, Ryan. For the sake of my crew, and for the sake of yours,” you pulled the ‘boss’ card and you saw it was the wrong move immediately. He stood up abruptly.

“I don’t have a crew,” his voice was cool, “You’ve got enough of a mess to deal with, with all your enemies.”

“All my enemies?” you sputtered out with a laugh, “You know how many enemies I had before Diamond that actively tried to kill me? None. So don’t you fucking pin this all on me, Slade wants to kill the Fakes. Diamond wanted to kill me, but really? If I wasn’t taken in by Jack then I doubt he’d even know of my existence. None of my enemies are mine, none of them came after me because of who I am! Do you think I wanted this life? I was thrown out on my ass when I was twenty-”

“They supplied you with money to survive,” Ryan interrupted, “Don’t play the ‘poor me’ card.”

You pressed your lips closed, before standing up. “I lived on the streets before Jack took me in. When they left, they were just other people I trusted who abandoned me. Don’t think for a fucking second that I accepted the pity money they left me. Even when I lived with Jack, we weren’t rich. She wasn’t a part of a crew when I lived with her, she worked two different jobs. You, on the other hand? You chose this life. You went seeking to become the badass the Fakes wanted you to be when you could’ve gone back to your normal life in Georgia. Came back wearing a mask as if you can separate the monster from the man.”

He didn’t move for the longest time, not a single emotion flicked across his face. All at once, the illusion of stillness snapped. He picked up the lamp on your side table and threw it against the far wall. You jumped to your feet, fury rushing through your veins. He stalked away from you towards the door. You weren’t finished with the conversation, stalking after him and yanking the coat out of his hands before he could take it. “You really don’t want to cross this line, Lady SAI.”

“Oh, I think I do, Vagabond.”

His hand shot up, and you clamped your eyes closed, expecting him to hit you. Instead, his fingers fisted in your hair and his lips came down in a bruising kiss. His teeth dug into your lip hard enough you tasted blood. You pulled away in surprise, and his lips moved to your neck, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. You felt his teeth scrape across your skin before biting down. You gasped and dug your fingernails into his shoulders. His hands ran down your back as his mouth tortured your neck, sucking and biting the skin. He lifted you up by your thighs and slammed your back against the wall. You felt a jolt of pain from your hip and you swore, tears welling in your eyes. “Ryan, stop!”

Instantly, his mouth was off your neck and his eyes met yours. Very, very, gently, he lowered your good leg so you could support yourself before lowering the other. He stepped away instantly, “I-I’m sorry…I just- I’ll leave.”

You grabbed his arm and pulled him back to you, the kiss you gave him was just as aggressive as the assault on your own lips. When you pulled away you littered his faces with kisses. “I’m sorry,” you breathed, repeating the words, “I shouldn’t have said that about you. You’re not a monster. I’m so sorry.”

He held you tightly, but it felt so gentle at the same time. One hand came up, his knuckles brushing your cheek, “Believe me, I will tell you about why she has me so tense… I just can’t right now. I’m sorry…I shouldn- I just…she has me on edge and I fucking hate that it’s around you.”

“I’m so tired of fighting,” you felt exhausted suddenly, and you clung tightly to him, “and yet all I seem to be capable of lately is fighting with people I care about. I just…I want to go back to when this wasn't who I am. I want to go back to when my crew wasn’t in danger, my friends weren’t threatened, and I did safe jobs. I want…I’m so tired with this bullshit, and I’m letting it affect my personal life and there’s nothing I can do to disconnect the two.”

“I know,” he murmured, kissing your head, “I know. I am too…”

“I want…” you fell silent for a moment. “I want Slade and Atropos gone, I want them gone for good. I want to retire from this life, life in a house, have pets, I want to not have to watch my back anymore.”

Ryan tilted your head up to look at him, “Then…consider them dead,” he murmured, kissing your lips gently. “You focus on protecting people, and I’ll get the Fakes to help me take them out.”

“No,” you shook your head, “You’re going to kill them? I’ll help.”

“Since when are you okay with murder?” he asked quietly, a guilty look on his face.

“Since people decided it was okay to tear my family apart and threaten the ones I love.”

“I can handle them, you don’t need to get your hands bloody.”

“I can’t have you or the Fakes fight all my battles for me,” you said, and then stepped away, grabbing his hand. You led him back towards your bedroom. “Now, let’s finish what you started.”


	19. Sparring

You sipped on a rum and coke as Adam and Jeremy practiced their hand-to-hand on the dance floor. They had laid out a fall mat so if either of them landed a punch a bit too hard and laid the other out, they wouldn’t be hitting the hard floor. Caiti slid into the booth across from you. She eyed your face and neck curiously. “So…did you practice hand-to-hand as well? Or was it an intense CPR training session?”

Your cheeks heated and your hand subconsciously covered up the hickey on your neck, while you licked the cut on your lip. Things had gotten a little…heated and rough after you and Ryan apologized to each other. You had a litany of scratches and bruises, and so did he. Afterwards, he had felt bad and gotten you ice packs for the bruises on your thighs and bandaged any scrapes or bites where he had bitten down or dug in too much. You still were getting apologies from him, even though you had given as good as you had gotten. If he hadn’t looked at his back yet, you’d be surprised.

Speaking of the devil, Ryan entered the bar a few minutes after Caiti and walked over to the two sparring. After a brief conversation, he joined in on the practice. Caiti didn’t tease you relentlessly for your hickey, just smiled at you and then watched the practice. You nursed your drink and leaned back in the booth. You still felt sore two days after, but it was well worth it in your mind. Ryan was good in bed whether it was sensual and gentle, or if it was rough and intense. To be honest? Watching him practice made you want to drag him into the backroom for a quickie. You took a sip and hoped that Caiti couldn’t magically read minds or read your face and tell what you were thinking.

Jeremy removed his sweat-soaked shirt and tossed it on the ground, taking a break to come over to your booth. He picked up his abandoned water bottle from the seats and took a long drink as Ryan and Adam squared up. Jeremy turned around and sputtered his drink.

“You okay?” you asked patting his back, regretting it when you pulled your hand away and saw a sheen of sweat on your palm. You wiped your palm on your pants.

“Hey! Ryan! Did you get attacked by a cat or something?” Jeremy called out, laughter in his voice. You leaned forwards and saw that Ryan had taken his shirt off. Revealing to the whole lot of them the marks left behind by you.

Ryan looked down at his chest at the scratches there. That wasn’t all, there was also a few dark splotches on his neck, and even more embarrassing? A few peeking out from beneath his jeans. His back was littered with scratches as well.

“They’re battle wounds,” he clarified.

“I’d like those kinds of wounds,” Jeremy shook his head. “All I get are broken bones and gunshot holes.”

The two of them laughed at their back and forth before the subject faded off. Thankfully. Caiti gave you a sly look but remained silent. Jeremy sat down beside you after a while and the three of you chatted. Jeremy did comment on how you must’ve also been in the same battle as Ryan, pointing out your lip and neck. You scowled at him and he laughed heartily.

You glanced up just as Ryan and Adam headed out of the club proper, probably heading up to the bathroom and more specifically the showers. Jeremy excused himself and darted after them, scooping up his abandoned shirt.

There was a heavy knocking on the club door, you ignored it. The sign on the front clearly stated that you were closed. The club only opened a few nights a week, increasing its exclusivity. A few moments later the knocking came again, more urgent this time. Once more, you ignored it. When the person began just hammering on the door, you pushed away your drink and stormed over to the door. You weren’t stupid, you brought a gun with you, and you only opened the door a crack, your foot blocking it from opening further.

Unfortunately, the person on the other side was smaller than you thought they were going to be and they managed to squeeze in and shoved you out of the way. You had the barrel of your gun pressed into their temple before they could take another step, Caiti grabbing a gun and taking aim as well. You didn’t recognize the woman, and she was wholly unwelcome. “We’re closed, if you could kindly get the fuck out of my club, I won’t call the cops or shoot you. Your choice.”

“Please,” the woman begged, standing stock still. “I need help.”

“I’m not a charity,” you replied. “There are plenty of woman’s shelters in the city, and I’m not the police either. Fuck off.”

“I work with Slade,” she blurted out as you moved to force her out of the building. Instead, you kicked the door closed.

“Then you’ve royally fucked up by coming here,” you looked over at Caiti. “Grab the others.”

“Please,” the woman begged again, “I’m willing to tell you whatever you want…I just want to get away from him.”

“Who are you, and why should I care?” you asked, Caiti had moved closer to the door but she still hadn’t left. You knew it was because she didn’t want to leave you alone, but if the guys were showering they probably wouldn’t notice anything that was happening until later. The music, the soundproofing, and the showers could effectively drown out most gunshots. You jerked your chin towards the door, and Caiti inched closer again.

“Atropos,” the woman sputtered out. “Please! Please don’t shoot! Hear me out first.”

“Oh, I’m not going to shoot you. Not yet. First, my dear friend will come down here and then he’ll squeeze out every ounce of information from you as he can and then we’ll shoot you,” you threatened.

“I’ll tell you anything, Slade is a fucking asshole,” she spat, and slowly reached for the scarf around her neck. You pressed the gun harder into her head. “I’m just taking off my scarf.” You allowed her to do so and saw clear bruises in the shape of fingers. She removed her sunglasses as well and you saw both eyes had bruises, her nose slightly crooked. “I interfered at the warehouse and he figured out.”

“Interfered how?” you demanded, you really couldn’t care less what happened between her and Slade. The bruises didn’t lessen your want to kill her and just solidified the want to kill him.

“I staggered the blasts, they were originally supposed to all go off at once. I told him that it was to make it look more organic but he thought I just did it to protect Ryan-”

“Vagabond,” you seethed, she flinched.

“I just did it to protect the Vagabond.”

“Your story is very well put together,” you said, “But I think it’s just that. A story. What happened to the grand speech about wanting to collect a debt?”

“I worded it like that so Slade wasn’t suspicious, but I planned to get the Vagabond to help me get out of Los Santos and away from this asshole,” Atropos said, sending you a begging look. You didn’t buy her story for one moment. “Please, if the Vagabond is here, get him to come vouch for me. I can be helpful to you guys. I know everything Slade had planned, and I know my way around weapons and poisons.”

Poisons.

“Deadly nightshade?”

She hesitated, and then nodded, “Yes.”

“Like the shit, Slade used to poison me?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that! Please….just help me. I don’t want to fight anymore. I’ve made stupid choices that led me here, but…I regret them. Please, as one woman to another.”

The door burst open and Ryan strode in, still missing a shirt but his mask firmly in place. He strode right over, knife in his hand. Atropos immediately backpedaled, clearly more terrified of the knife coming at her than the gun already pressed to her forehead. Caiti flew forwards, grabbing Ryan’s arm. He attempted to shake her off, but she wouldn’t let go. You kept your gun trained on Atropos’ head and tried to keep your attention on her as well as Caiti struggled to stop Ryan from instantly killing the woman.

Caiti called out your name, begging you to get the Vagabond to stop and listen.

“What if I don’t want him to?” you asked, eyes flicking temporarily to her.

Caiti made a disgusted noise, “If she is being abused? If she is being made to do these things? What then? We torture and then kill an innocent woman?”

“She’s not innocent,” Ryan snarled.

“In this aspect she is!” Caiti insisted, “Look at her! She can help us.”

“I don’t want her help,” Ryan shoved Caiti away, she stumbled backward.

“Vagabond,” you said, entirely calmly. You lowered your gun. “I’ll let you live, on a few conditions, Atropos.”

The woman looked at you eagerly, but her eyes flicked back to Vagabond nervously. “Anything.”

“You give up all information you have, you don’t ask for any information from us. You never approach us in public or come back here again unless we ask you to come for information purposes. If you follow this, I will get you out of the city, but once you leave you’re never to return to Los Santos or contact any of the Fakes, current or old, or anyone in my crew. If you do? I will personally find you and put a bullet in your forehead. Got it?” you demanded. There was a bit of hesitation and you raised your gun.

“How can I say no?” she asked, “I get what I want, and you get what you want.”

You felt the fury radiating off of Ryan, and he threw the knife into the wall inches from Atropos’ head. He stalked towards her and leaned close, “You put a toe out of line? I cut it off. You talk about anything you see or hear while near my friends and crew? I’ll cut your tongue off. You see something you’re not supposed to? I’ll take your eyes. You stab her in the back? I show you the real meaning of pain, and when my head is clear? I can make someone live as I flay their skin off their body. Remember that, Atropos, and you’ll survive. Forget it, and you’ll regret it.”

He yanked the knife out, the blade slicing her cheek as he stepped back.


	20. Toeing the Line

Things had been incredibly tense between you and Ryan since you spared Atropos, but you hadn’t had much time alone with him either. You had thrown yourself fully into your work. Within two days, the woman was picked up and driven to an undisclosed location to give you and the crew as much information as she could about Slade. Geoff was semi-impressed with you, but he did suggest handing her over to Ryan and letting him get the information out of her instead. Trusting the woman too much gave her too much power. You took his advice, but you had made a promise to the woman and you weren’t about to throw that out the window. You had doubts the woman was being fully truthful with you.

However, if she gave any information about Slade, that would be more useful than what you currently knew which was next to nothing. If you guys were going through with multiple heists, any information she gave would be a launching point for Meg and Gavin.

She was more than helpful. Giving you addresses of businesses, warehouses, revealing future shipments, the whole nine yards, without anyone nudging her towards that subject. She gave up some names of the more involved crew members and meeting places. She said she hadn’t been to the new base of operations yet, Slade was waiting for a grand reveal later on. Allegedly. Geoff called her out on that, and then she admitted that he operated out of it, she just wasn’t allowed to know where it was. You could tell Geoff still wanted to call her out on it, but he kept silent. Leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“If you really want to get rid of Slade, you’d go to-” she started but you held up a hand.

“I don’t care what you think, really. Any plans we make won’t be made by you, and won’t be shared with you either. We just need information from you, and that’s it,” you interrupted, and you saw a flash of annoyance on her face.

“What does Slade know?” Geoff asked a simple question but loaded as well. The woman could be making up everything else, but if she truly was Slade’s second-in-command, then she’d know everything that people told him. She’d know if Slade was aware that your crews were planning a heist or anything of that fashion.

“He knows plenty of stuff. He brags that he’s figured it all out himself, but I’m pretty sure a majority of it is from his old boss, and everything else is from people who know what they’re doing when it comes to gathering intel,” Atropos said, and then met your eyes. “He’s taken a special interest in you.”

“Oh? Why is that?” you heard the sarcasm dripping off your tongue like acid, “Is he still bitter that he hasn’t managed to kill me yet?”

“I think he’s impressed. A child abandoned who weaselled her way into the hearts of some of the most powerful criminals in Los Santos, who has defied death twice. I mean, I think it’s impressive really. No matter what you do, Geoffry there just falls at your feet and begs your forgiveness. I mean, he has that god awful cross stitch pillow you got him still,” the woman laughed. “Though to be fair, I think he’s just so hungry for people to care and pay attention to him, he’d keep any keepsakes.”

The only part of her words that bothered you was the mention of the present, but even then you knew that someone had been spying in on the three of you when you had gifted him the pillow for his birthday the year before they left. Either someone knew where Geoff was staying, or they were just assuming. From his reaction, you assumed the former. It was a teeny reaction, and from Atropos’ reaction, it wasn’t enough of one for her. She was attempting to get a rise out of the two of you.

“If he’s impressed, I’m sure you could convince him to work with you, and then backstab him. It’d be simple really, I mean….if you had the Vagabond dogging your every step it wouldn’t be. However, you’re an incredibly attractive woman, and with some dressing up you could probably convince Slade that you’re interested-”

You barked out a laugh, “I’d sooner drink bleach than even entertain the thought of pretending to be interested in that sack of shit. Besides, even if we did decide to go that sort of root? You’re not going to know. Now, do you have any information a bit more recent than what happened back when I was nineteen?”

Atropos sighed, “Can’t I just tell you some ideas for plans that might work? You don’t exactly have a good track record for having flawless plans, since you have almost died twice, and have been kidnapped and tortured.”

Ryan stepped forward, but you held up a hand and he stopped. You leaned forwards on the table, rubbing your temple. “Since you won’t shut up, go ahead. Tell us your magical plan.”

She smiled as if she had just won the argument. You weren’t going to take her idea at all, but if she wanted so much to tell you guys a plan then you’d let her. It didn’t matter in the long run after all.

“We use someone as bait-” she started, but Jeremy laughed.

“Already been done, that’s how she got kidnapped and tortured,” he said drily throwing her words back in her face.

“We won’t use her,” Atropos gestured to you and then looked at Jeremy. “We use you.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Why Jeremy? I doubt Slade even knows who Jeremy is.”

Sure, Jeremy could be insulted by that, but it was true. There were other people that Slade would more likely go after Geoff, Jack, yourself, Ryan, or Lindsay rather than Jeremy or any of the others. Attacking someone more publicly known or who is higher in command was a smarter move. Sure, that could be a blow to Jeremy’s pride, but you could tell it wasn’t. He just nodded along.

“It’d make more sense to use Geoff or someone,” Jeremy agreed with you, crossing his arms.

Atropos reached into her jacket and dropped an envelope down on the table. “I can have Slade find these easily, and he’ll figure out who he is fast enough. It was like what you guys did with the Vagabond. Pretended he was an innocent so Diamond captured him.” No one was going to inform her that wasn’t how it went down at all. As for the envelope, you hesitated to grab it, but Geoff didn’t. He pulled out a decent pile of photographs and started flipping through them. He stopped after a moment and placed them face down on the table. Before you could grab them, Atropos flipped them over and scattered them over the table in a way that looked accidental, but you felt she entirely planned for them to be exposed to everyone.

Pictures of you and Jeremy. In compromising situations. One was a picture of the two of you in the back of a car, which Jeremy instantly snatched and tore up. His face bright red with embarrassment and fury. You stared blankly at the photos and picked one up. A picture of you and Jeremy at the beach, walking along the shore holding hands.

“You guys did date for a substantial amount of time, did you not?” Atropos said a false innocent smile on her face. “I mean…where else would all these photos come from if you didn’t? Do you sleep with every guy roughly your age that isn’t dating anyone?”

You leaned back and flicked the photo back on the table. “Well, obviously, you’ve got nothing of importance if you’re stooping to petty insults and this sort of thing. If you don’t have anything else. I’m sure I can get the Vagabond to find what you’re hiding from us.”

Her eyes narrowed and you met her gaze evenly. “You said I have to give information, you never specified that it has to be specifically about Slade. You even asked for information on yourselves. I’m just giving you what you asked for. You really need to become better at making deals.”

Ryan slammed his knife down beside the woman’s hand, she jumped and yanked her hand away. She looked up at him, but she said nothing. A heartbeat passed, and she gave him a sly smile. “You know I like it rough.”

Jeremy and Michael had to yank Ryan back from the woman before he could get his knife back out and bury it in something else. You didn’t even flinch at any of it, just watched the woman. “For someone who needs protection from us, you’re crossing lines. I’ll let the Vagabond do what he wants to do, and right now I think he’s thinking of somewhere to bury your body where no one will find it.”

She pressed her lips together, “It’s who I am. I push buttons…but you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll cooperate.”

“This is the last time I warn you. The next time you…’push buttons’, I’ll have the Vagabond show me what’s the most painful way to remove someone’s tongue.”

Ryan’s eyes flicked to you, you saw the movement, but you refused to look away from the woman. You stood up. Voiced dropping, making sure the threat was very well recieved and clear when you said, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” she murmured, dropping her gaze.  You waited a heartbeat, no one in the room moved. You smiled, mostly out of relief that things hadn't escalated any further.

“Good, now. The next time we meet? I expect better information from you, or physical proof to what you claim,” you nod towards Michael, and Gavin. “Cover her eyes and drop her off somewhere that has cell reception so she can call a taxi.”

They nodded and released Ryan. He yanked the knife out of the table and grabbed the woman’s shoulder. “That’s not a threat, by the way. That was a promise, remember that.”

She swallowed thickly before Michael yanked a bag over her head. You really couldn’t tell how sincere that woman was about anything. Sure, what you threatened made you sick to your stomach, but you’d go through with them if you had to. You wouldn’t let her make a fool out of your crew. That, you promised yourself.

After the woman left with Michael and Gavin, you dismissed the others, saying to meet up later at the club to go over what information the woman gave up that was actually worth something. It wasn’t long before you were alone with Ryan and Jeremy. Ryan stared at the photos laying on the table. If someone didn’t know Jeremy or yourself well, they would assume the photos were recent. Jeremy still had brown hair in the photos, which spoke about how old they really were. Jeremy stared at Ryan, you could see the tension in his body as he stepped closer to the taller man. “Hey…look, these photos? They’re super old…I don’t even know where she got them…I don’t even know how she got them. We split on good terms, but we broke up because we didn’t see a future together as more than friends…” when Ryan didn’t say anything, Jeremy chuckled and rubbed his head. “I mean…you’d look at some of these photos and say ‘Well, friends don’t fuck in a car’, but…” he trailed off. “She’s happy with you, so you don’t have to worry about me, if you even do, not saying that you do think of me as a threat…but if you do you don’t need to. I have a girlfriend as well and-”

Ryan clapped him on the shoulder, startling Jeremy bad enough he physically jumped backward, hands flying up as if to ward off a knife. You saw amusement in Ryan’s eyes. He purposefully spooked Jeremy. “I’m not worried. These…” he looked down at the photos, his mask hid most of his expression but you knew it wasn’t a pleasant one. “These are an invasion of your privacy. Both of yours.”

He began gathering the photos. You helped him, and Jeremy joined quickly. Once they were all together, Ryan tucked them back into the envelope. “Do you guys want any of them?”

You shook your head, “I’ve kept any photos, and most of those are not the kind of photos I want to keep.”

He nodded, and Jeremy agreed with you. He walked over to the sink in the tiny house and pulled out a lighter from under the sink. He lit the corner of the envelope and tossed it into the sink after it got enough of a burn going. You watched the flame dance for a moment before Ryan turned towards you.

“She knows too much, I’m going to talk to some old…acquaintances. See if they know what’s going on,” Ryan told you. “If she’s playing the long con, they’ll know it.”

You lifted his mask enough to kiss the corner of his mouth, before letting him leave. Once he was gone you saw Jeremy visibly deflate. You poke his arm.

“You were going to shit your pants, weren’t you?” you teased, and he laughed.

“Never! He doesn’t scare me!”

“Bullshit!” you shot back, “You were quivering in your shoes when you started talking.”

“I just don’t want to cause issues with you and him,” Jeremy said, his tone going serious. “I’ve seen you go on plenty of dates since we dated, and you didn’t come back from a single one of them with a smile on your face. You got a text from Ryan before you even really started dating him and it was like he lit up your entire world. If this bitch tries to drive a wedge between you two using me? I’ll take her down a peg myself. You’re one of my best friends, and I’m not gonna fuck up your relationship with him.” You smiled and he pulled you into a hug. “Seriously. You’re happy, and this Atro-whatever is trying to fuck it up. Don’t let her get her fingers in Ryan. I think she’ll fuck him up.”

“I know, I didn’t even want him here today but he insisted.”

Jeremy shook his head and looked at the burning envelope. He turned on the tap and allowed the water to put the fire out. The photos were nothing but charred remains now. He scooped them out and tossed them into the garbage.

“So,” you started, leaning on the counter as he pulled the garbage out of the bin. “Does this mean you forgive me for not telling you I was dead?”

“Hell no,” Jeremy shook his head, giving you a half scowl. “You’ve got months left before I forgive you.”

You smiled, “Thought I’d try.”

He shook his head, and you saw the corners of his mouth rose. “Maybe a bit less than a few months. If you’re lucky and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Damnit, I’ve got at least another four years.”

He burst out laughing at that, and you just grinned with him.


	21. Accidents

Things were coming together quickly. You and Geoff were nearly done with the heist plan. A few final touches, maybe another day or two of work, and the two of you would present it to the crew. Where, obviously, it’d be picked apart piece by piece until every contingency, emergency, accident, every damn thing was covered and there were back up plans for back up plans. It was tireless work and required a bunch of footwork from everyone. Geoff and you butted heads a lot. Different viewpoints on how heists should go down would do that. You wanted to cause a scene but still have it muted, but he wanted to stretch LSPD thin across the city. You wanted to focus most of LSPD on the charity ball. Finally? You guys came to a mix of your ideas.

One of the final pieces was needing more weapons. You had a shipment on the way to the docks right now, but…well, your leg had decided that it just wasn’t going to work properly today. You were confined to your wheelchair. Hopefully, your leg wouldn’t pull this shit when it came to the actual heist or you’d be fucked. Maybe Meg could take your place in the heist? You’d have to discuss that with Geoff. You’d prefer if it was you, but if you couldn’t do it…well, Meg would be your stand-in. Wearing a disguise and a mask that wasn’t Dollface’s might just work enough to give people an idea of you but not have you actually there.

As for the shipment? Every single other person was currently dealing with a different aspect of the heist, preparation, gathering intel, or other shit, and really? It was simple enough task. Go there, give the smuggler the money, take the weapons, bring them to a specific warehouse until they were needed. You had gotten Adam to choose one of the BTS members to take control of that mission. It was a younger guy, but eager to please. As you talked to him, he seemed to want nothing more than to be acknowledged and respected by you, but by earning it. Not demanding it. The kind of person you liked.

“Just remember, you’re in charge. You give them the money, and you take the weapons. If they want to be difficult? You tell them they don’t want to cross us. Make it sound like you mean it, cuz we do,” you instructed the guy. “Call me when you’ve picked up the shipment, you’ve got the coordinates to the warehouse we chose?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man said happily, albeit nervously.

“Good. You’ve done great so far, you keep up this level of professionalism and work ethic? I’ll send you on more of these missions, which means a pay raise,” you offered, and you heard his breath hitch in his throat.

“I won’t let you down. We’re coming up to the dock. I’ll call you afterward,” he promised, you hung up and placed your phone on the desk in front of you. You kneaded your thigh and then popped some pain medication. It was late, and you were ready to pass out in your bed. Ryan had been away for a while, keeping in contact via phone, but he was talking to people he’d rather not involve the crew with. Sounded like he didn’t fully trust them not to backstab him so he was keeping his distance from the crews until he was done asking them the questions he wanted to know. You missed him, before this it was super tense between the two of you because of Atropos. You just hoped that he was getting to a point where he wasn’t as angry at you for your decision.

Either way, you had a jaw-cracking yawn before you text Adam telling him you were leaving. He appeared in the doorway a few moments later.

“You need a ride?” he asked, looking ready to head out himself. You nod. “I’ll meet you down in the garage then, want me to drop you off at Ryan’s apartment or yours?”

“Ryan’s,” you requested. “Thank you!”

He smiled, “No problem. It’s on the way anyways. Take your time, I gotta phone Grace first.”

He disappeared from the door and you started collecting the things you wanted to take. Mostly personal things. Your phone, laptop, a sweater. You tossed your medication into your bag. You made sure everything was turned off and secured before you left the room. The club below was loud and full of people. There was about another hour before the club would close, but you didn’t have it in you to stay any longer. The staff would be able to close everything up and kick out all the last remaining drunks. You didn’t really have much to do with the club, not really. Adam dealt with a lot of that aspect, you could run a crew but a club was another whole thing. If you guys needed another base of operations, it would not be a club.

You took the elevator down and got to the garage just as Adam was hanging up with his girlfriend.

“You ready to go?” he asked, popping open the passenger side door.

“Yup, ready to pass out forever. Today’s been so long,” you complained. “Can I sleep in tomorrow? Or do I have anything important?”

“Since when am I your assistant? I thought I was second-in-command,” Adam teased, giving you some support as you switched over from the wheelchair to the car seat. You stuck your tongue out at him.

“You are my second-in-command. I’m just teasing. I know I don’t have anything,” you drop your things on the floor of the car. “I’ll buy you a late night snack if you want to stop off somewhere.”

“Sounds good,” he grinned, and then shut the door. He tucked the wheelchair away in the trunk of his car before heading to the driver's seat. You buckled in and started fiddling with the radio station but he whacked your hands away from the dials and switches. “You don’t get to pick the station, it’s my car!”

“Fine,” you said allowing him to turn the radio back to what it was. The two of you rode in comfortable silence, then grabbed some burgers and fries halfway. Ryan’s apartment was about thirty minutes away from the club, with good traffic. Bad traffic? Longer. Having to drive in random directions to try to confuse anyone who might be tailing you guys? So. Fucking. Long. It was okay, though. Adam let you eat in his car.

When Adam decided that any tail was most likely gone, he pulled onto the freeway. You sent Ryan a text, just letting him know you were staying at his place. Just in case. You didn’t want Ryan freaking out because someone was in his apartment. You freaked out enough when he showed up at your apartment unannounced. You two were both jumpy, and really, in your professions? Who would blame either of you?

There was a sickening crunch.

Then the world was spinning.

You barely had time to react.

Adam shouted.

You felt sick to your stomach.

You felt pain envelope you.

Then all at once, the world stilled.

You blinked, dangling sideways from your seat. The airbag deflated in front of you. Warm wetness pooled from your nose, and you tasted blood. You heard nothing but ringing and you looked to the side.

One of Adam’s legs was caught in the metal of the car. He was unconscious, his face covered with blood.

“Adam!” you called out, reaching towards him, your fingers could only reach his shoulder, and you could barely shake him. “Adam! Wake up!” you called again.

Nothing.

Okay. Okay. You were obviously in a car accident. Others would’ve called 911 when they saw what happened, right? Adam would be okay. You attempted to unbuckle your seatbelt but in the rollover, the metal had been crushed and you were trapped.

Your phone.

You looked around wildly for the phone, but you didn’t see it anywhere. Your laptop was smashed into bits on the road outside the window. Your phone was most likely laying on the road as well somewhere.

How had Adam gotten into an accident? Normally he was so careful.

You heard an ambulance siren, and soon a paramedic was cutting you loose from the seat belt and helping you out of the car. You were dizzy and couldn’t walk. They got you onto a stretcher. A few people were watching off to the side, looking worried, asking if the paramedics needed any help. The men just told them to wait for the police. They got you quickly into the ambulance.

“He’s worse,” you tried to tell them, gesturing to Adam. You could see blood starting to drop off his face, and panic started settling into your bones. You hadn't even checked his pulse. What if he was dead? “You've got to get him out!”

“His leg is crushed, we can’t get him out,” the other paramedic said. “We’re going to wait till he’s out, but we have to take care of you as well.”

You didn’t care about yourself. You were sure you only suffered superficial injuries. You stared out the back of the ambulance as one of the paramedics began to check you over. You weren’t even paying attention before you felt a prick on your arm, you looked down in surprise and saw a syringe injecting you with something.

“What are you doing?!” you demanded, attempting to pull your arm away.

“This is just pain medication,” the man promised, “Please calm down, miss. You’re in shock.”

You felt yourself starting to go numb, and your head started to feel heavy. You fought the effects. Hard.

“Miss!” the paramedic spoke louder, removing the syringe. “Calm down!” you punched him. The other paramedic jumped in, and you fought the medication and the two of them, but just as they got the third strap across your body, you succumbed to the medication.


	22. Gilded Cage

Bright lights. A steady beeping. Disinfected air.

You sat up suddenly, heart beating rapidly.  A hospital.

The four walls were very bland but screamed hospital. There was that attempt at making the room seem homey but had such a fake sterile look to it. You felt your heart beating in your chest and with each thud, an equally rushed beep assaulted your ears.

The car crash.

You slowly lowered yourself back down on the bed. You were strapped to the bed, enough freedom to move your arms around, but not enough to get out of the bed or, and you tested, to hit anyone if they came in. Which, after you had punched the paramedic, was understandable. Why had they knocked you out? You were cooperating and weren’t in any sort of medical emergency. You looked around for a button to page the nurse, but you paused and pushed the blanket down your legs.

Your jeans were still on.

A camera in the corner.

You wiped your nose, crusted blood came with your hand.

You didn’t have an IV in either, just the heart monitor. Whoever did this must’ve thought you entirely stupid to not notice the differences, or maybe hoped you’d be knocked out long enough that it wouldn’t really matter. You took off the heart monitor and it flatlined. Annoying, but someone must have been monitoring it or would hear the noise eventually and come see if you had died or just taken it off. You checked yourself over. Obviously, you hadn’t been given medical care. Your hip screamed in pain when you moved it, your knee was stiff. Your arm was stiff as well, but as you moved it, it loosened up.

There was no clock so you couldn’t tell the time, and you belatedly realized that there was no window. Not really. The ‘window’ was just a curtain with a light behind to simulate sunlight. Of course, it was too yellow to be the real sun, unless the sun had been setting for that long. Nothing happened for the longest time, you ended up wiping your blood covered face with the corner of the blanket and feeling your cuts from glass and metal.

The door open, relatively calmly, and Slade strode in. He closed the door behind him. He carried a laptop and he pulled over the hospital bed table and placed the laptop on it. He obviously didn’t see you as a threat or was trying to make it seem that way at the very least. Diamond always had an entourage around him, as if he had to prove that he was this big badass to everyone he was around. You were almost glad that it was only Slade. Almost. You still double-checked at how far you could reach before letting your arms fall down to your side. Neither of you spoke for a good solid two minutes.

He sighed, a touch irritated, “I’m not going to torture you into talking, Lady SAI.” He said the name as if it was a slur, but carried on easily, “At least…not yet.  You see, Diamond went about you all the wrong way. Really, he did. He thought brute force would get you to do what he wanted, and idle threats. Of course, beating the shit out of you is all I want to do, but your crew doesn’t care if you get a few scratches or broken bones. As long as they get you back alive. You’re tough after all. Not much breaks you.”

You hadn’t tried to speak yet, and you knew your throat was dry and you’d croak out anything. So, you stayed silent. It seemed to piss him off further.

“My previous plan to kill you and the others failed, miserably, because of faulty explosions. Now, I need to figure out how to get all your crew back together, but…I’m going to break you first,” he opened the laptop.

“What’re you planning?” you croaked out, and he just laughed.

“I am not going into a monologue. However, just so you know, I intercepted your weapons shipment,” he said, and then slid the table over so you would be able to easily see what was on the screen, but out of reach. He gestured your gaze towards the computer.

At first, you didn’t recognize the man sitting in the chair, hands tied behind his back. One eye was swollen shut, his nose clearly broken. He was covered with dried blood and his shirt was missing. He was covered with bruises, cuts, and welts. You could distinguish two different voices asking him questions. General questions about SAI really, but some were more specific. The man stayed completely silent throughout the process. When he didn’t say anything, you heard water splashing in a bucket and the two men appeared.

“What is the name of your boss?” one asked, slowly passing a towel between his hands. The man still didn’t say anything. “We know who you work for, we just want to hear you say it. See, you’re not going to like this next thing at all, but we won’t do it if you just say something. We reward good behaviour.”

“Fuck you.”

You recognized the guy then. The young man you had talked to earlier that day? Night? No, from his wounds it had been a couple of days. When they covered his face and forced it back, you forced yourself to watch. When he was coughing the water up, choking and crying out. You watched. This was your fault. You sent the man out without backup from someone more skilled with exchanges. It was your fault. Every single hurt he endured and all the pain he was feeling was all your fault. You were furious.

They stop after a few passes. They did nothing else as the man regained his breath. He didn’t lift his head, and you heard his ragged breathing. You didn’t know if this was live or if it was just a recording but you made a promise to the man in your head that you would do your hardest to get him out as well.

“Still not going to betray her?” the other man asked, dropping the empty bucket down beside the chair.

“You’re going to kill me either way,” he growled out.

“So why does it matter? Just say it.”

“Fuck you.”

The other guy lifted the gun and pressed it into your man’s forehead. You saw his dead eyes light with the fire of survival before you clamped your eyes closed. The gun went off a second later.

“You inspire so much loyalty from someone who doesn’t even know you,” Slade said, closing the laptop. “It’s inspiring.”

“Go to hell with your boss,” you hissed.

“He’s not my boss,” Slade retorted sharply, then quickly found his composure. “I will break you in a way that Diamond could never. You don’t give a shit about yourself, but you care so much about everyone else. Even your underlings. I’ll start with them, and when you stop caring about them? I’ll move up the ladder. I wonder how long it would take Clubs to break? That will need a skilled hand, I think. The best part of this? Your crew doesn’t care about the underlings, they’re replaceable, you’re not. They won’t rush to find you. You won’t escape, no one is removing you from this room.”

“So, I’m supposed to use the bed as my bathroom?” you asked, “Super sanitary.”

“There’s a bathroom behind that curtain,” he pointed. “You’ll be escorted, three guards. I’m not Diamond. I’m not going to underestimate you. You didn’t get where you were by batting your eyelashes. Now, I have plans to deal with.”

He took his laptop and left, without grand ceremony or anything more than a softly closed door. Nothing like Diamond.

If you kept comparing the two of them, you felt like you were going to underestimate him, and you really didn’t have that luxury. Unfortunately, there was nothing you could do trapped in the room. Your guards didn’t talk to you and never turned their backs all at once. Sure, they didn’t make eye contact as you went to the bathroom, but they didn’t turn their backs. It was unnerving but you sucked it up, and they did have to drag you to and from the bed. Your hip wouldn’t work. They offered no medical attention to it either. Slade mentioned that it was probably best that they didn’t do anything for your injuries in the crash. If your hip was this fucked up by the crash, you not being able to walk meant you weren’t able to escape without help.

You were furious. More importantly? You were in constant pain. You slept most of the days just out of pure exhaustion from trying to ignore your pain. Your hip was constantly sore, your legs were just getting worse the longer you went without standing on them. Your arm wasn’t feeling good either. Would you even be able to walk again if the others rescued you? From the trips to the bathroom, about two a day, and your two meals a day as well, you guessed it had been about a month since the crash. You would rather die than admit to Slade that you were in so much pain you nearly blacked out every time the guards got you out of bed, he’d be too damn smug if you begged for pain medication.

Five weeks after the crash, someone new entered the room.

Atropos.

She stood at the end of your bed, staring down at you with a combination of pity and amusement. She had fresh bruises, and her wrist was wrapped.

“Nice bruises,” you mutter, making a minimum effort to look at her besides slightly opening your eyelids. You closed them. “Came to gloat?”

“Why would I gloat?” she asked, crossing her arms, “I just came to check on you for Slade since he’s out for the day. Finding more of your subordinates, I’m assuming.”

“There it is,” you said.

Silence in response.

“Has he already broken you?” Atropos asked, “Ryan would be disgusted with you-”

“Then you don’t know him, or me,” you retort, eyes opening again. “I don’t pretend to be tough, and it would take more than this to break me.”

“You’re acting tough right now,” Atropos said, walking around to the side of the bed and pressed on your hip. You clamped your eyes closed, a sharp pain shooting through you. “Don’t pretend.”

“Or maybe I’m so tired I don’t give a shit,” you gritted your teeth.

“Then tell me it hurts,” she demanded, pressing harder, “maybe I’ll believe that you’re not pretending to be tough then.”

“I wonder how many backs you can stab before someone finally stabs yours,” you grabbed her wrapped wrist and bent it, she let out a sharp yelp and jumped back from you. “Pick a side, and if you pick the right side, just hope they fucking don’t turn you away.”

She cradled her wrist.

“Ryan-”

“What about him?” you interrupted, “Please, continue telling me about my boyfriend.”

She closed her mouth abruptly, and turned and stalked from the room. You watched with disinterested eyes, once the door closed, you gently prodded your hip. Even that simple touch sent a flare of pain up your side. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you swallowed and just hoped that someone would come get you out before your hip was irreversibly damaged.


	23. Disgust

Slade was forced to start giving you medication. You woke up seven weeks later to an addition to your room, you had developed a fever, and slipped into a mini coma for two weeks. You were surprised he bothered to give you medical care, but that meant that he was still using you as a bargaining chip. It was a blessing, but you were unsure what you were getting half the time. Fortunately, someone other than Slade came in to administer the medication, and he seemed to know what he was talking about. Hopefully, that meant he was like Kerry and was the crew medic. Otherwise, you were getting randomly injected by a random guy, which stressed you out to think about, but you didn’t get groggy or feel addicted to whatever they were giving you, so that was a plus.

Another week went by and nothing more really happened.

It had been two months since you had been kidnapped.

You had only seen Atropos the one time, and you were sure that she had backstabbed your crew. Figured out somehow, when you left the club normally and planned for someone to follow you. Or something of that sort. If she showed an ounce of compassion for you when she came into the room, other than simple pity, you might’ve thought differently. You would’ve thought that she was simply just playing a part, but alone she could’ve done something to let you know that she wasn’t behind your abduction.

Instead, she had hurt you, insulted you, and then left. It was ridiculous, really.

Another day passed, and in the dead of the night, the door opened. You cracked open your eyes, heart pumping. Change was not good. Breaking the ritual of when you were intruded upon startled you. You sat still as the figure crept across the room before the chair in the far corner was pulled over to the side of your bed. The person sat down and then turned on the lamp beside your bed. It was Atropos.

Ugh. It was because you thought of her yesterday wasn’t it?

You simply stared at her before turning your head away from her and pulling the blanket over your head. “Fuck off.”

“How does your crew work?” she asked, ignoring your pathetic attempt to fall back asleep.

“Interrogating me in the middle of the night will have the exact same reaction as if you interrogate me during the day. Come back later when I don’t want to stab you,” you grumble.

“Oh, you sleep enough as it is. I’m not asking technical. I’m…asking relationship-wise.”

That surprised you, the hesitation in her voice mostly. You lowered the blanket slightly to look over at her. Her mouth was set into a hard line and she wasn’t looking at you, but at her nails instead. You lowered the blanket a bit more and really stared at her. She caught you looking and her cheeks darkened slightly.

“What?”

“Why?”

“Why what?” she said, exasperated.

“Why do you want to know?” you ask, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You’d give her five minutes, if her reasoning wasn’t as interesting as you thought it was going to be, you’d flop back over and go back to sleep.

“I mean, you…just get people to work with you. It’s a talent. Why doesn’t someone else lead?” she asked, “Every crew I’ve been involved with…well you know how they are. They don’t give you a choice but to work with them.”

“Many crews are loyalty based,” you said, confused. If your crew wasn’t loyal to you, you’d cut the disloyal ones loose. You didn’t want to work with people who didn’t trust you and who you didn’t trust. It just didn’t make sense. You knew that Diamond’s crew functioned on 30% loyalty and the rest on fear and blackmail. The fact that his crew didn’t exist anymore shouted how effective that was in the long run. If people liked you, you were less likely to get your throat slit or a rebellion against you. “What kind of crews do you work with? I mean, besides Slade who I can see is a very fair and even-tempered boss,” you gestured at her wounds.

She covered a yellowing bruise on her wrist with her opposite hand. “I grew up in this life…I just never met a boss who had as much respect as you or Geoff inspire. I mean…as a woman in the gang life? I’ve had all the experiences that people normally associate with it.”

“Maybe you should leave it then,” you retort a bit sharply.

“I tried to,” she said, but you didn’t really believe her. Nothing she said would make you believe her, she showed you already that she was so unreliable. “I…was into some pretty hard drugs. I met Ryan, who locked me in the basement when he caught me doing heroin in the house we rented. For a month until most of the withdrawal symptoms ended. We started working together then…and I fell for him. I gave up drugs for him, I even stopped drinking and smoking. He never reciprocated my feelings, the bastard, and I ended up sleeping with another guy. He…got me back into drugs. Ryan was furious, and…I showed him what drugs could do.”

You froze, and she continued on like she didn’t even notice.

“Soon, he was never sober. Which was awesome at first, he’d fuck me if he was high…but then our hits got bloodier and bloodier, and the true high he got was from the murders and nothing else. He murdered over thirty innocent people before he somehow kicked his own habit. He framed me for all his murders, and handed me over to the police himself and fled back to Los Santos. I was freed after a while when the evidence disintegrated and they figured out it was a male who committed the crimes, and my hands were too small for some of the hand bruises on the victims. I was going to stay the fuck away from here, but bribery can do a lot and…well, Slade stopped using drugs and money to convince me to stay and started telling me that if it wasn’t for him protecting me, Ryan would surely kill me.”

“You…drugged Ryan?” you struggled to keep your voice down, “Then you dared to come and say he owes you?”

“I-”

“You fucked up his life, and he owes you? You betray him and use him for your own sick purposes, and he owes you?” you snarled, fists clutching the blanket until your knuckles were white. “You never loved him. If you did you would’ve never done that to him. You wouldn’t have made him the monster he thinks he is. If I ever get out of here? You better realize that Slade will never be able to protect you from me, and the next time Ryan goes to kill you? I’ll tell him that’s too kind for you.”

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish but you were seeing red. You were furious with her, how dare she come in here and tell you this? You didn’t know if she was stupid or incredibly self-absorbed that she thought she did nothing wrong to Ryan and that because he framed her for murders she didn’t commit he was somehow indebted to her. That was bullshit. If you weren’t tied to the bed, you would’ve wrung her neck between your own hands. You remembered what you had said to Ryan in your apartment. ‘You chose this life. You went seeking to become the badass the Fakes wanted you to be.’

You tasted bile. You were disgusted with yourself. He didn’t tell you everything that happened when he left the Fakes, and you jumped to your own damn conclusions.

“Get out of here,” you spat.

“Alright,” she stood up, “but-”

“Go.”

“If I could make it up to him, I would.”

“Sure,” you snarled, “but you will never get the opportunity to.”

“I know,” she said, almost sounding genuinely apologetic and guilty. You didn’t believe it for a second. Just rolled onto your side and ignored her as she turned off the light and left.


	24. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, totally forgot to post last weekend and almost forgot this weekend. Woopsie daisy!
> 
> To be fair, I was at a convention for 4 days last weekend and when I wasn't at the convention I was essentially just sleeping.
> 
> But! Onto our regular program!

Four months.

Four months passed and you were still locked away. You were beginning to just go stir crazy and you were starting to feel the effects of each video or photo Slade showed you of another subordinate’s death. You began to just pretend that you had absolutely no connection with the person. Of course, he quickly noticed a change in your behaviour, and he hadn’t shown you another one in a while. The lasting effect was eating away at you, and you were beginning to worry that he would manage to kidnap one of the BTS crew. You thought of Mica, Barbara, Mariel…and you were worried for them. They were not in public eye, ever, and you didn’t think they would last long in this environment, and you didn’t want them to have to.

Whatever Slade was trying to pull, you were worried that he was going to get it.

Your door burst open a while after your last bathroom trip of the day, you were rereading the newspaper one of the guards had smuggled you. Before you could process the intruder, she was untying you from the bed. “We’ve got to get you out of there. Ryan’s gone into a psychotic rage, he’s downtown right now shooting up the place.”

The moment your arm was freed, you slugged her. Her head snapped to the side and she stumbled back. She spat blood and looked at you in surprise. “I’m trying to help you out and this is how you repay me?” she demanded, fury in her voice. You narrowed your eyes. “It doesn’t matter, we both know Ryan. He’s great at what he does, but you know what he’s not great at? Protecting himself. The Fakes aren’t with him.”

She freed your legs, and you swing them to the side of the bed. “How do I know I can trust you?” you demand.

“If you don’t, and something happens, could you forgive yourself for deciding to stay here because you don’t trust me?” she retorted and pulled out a gun from under her jacket. She hesitantly handed it to you. You checked the clip and then loaded a round into the chamber. You pointed it at her, but you kept your finger off the trigger. She still swallowed nervously. “Come on.”

You attempted to stand, but your leg gave out and she swore. “What the fuck? I thought you hip would’ve healed by now!”

“Oh, sorry, I haven’t had to use my legs much for four fucking months,” you snapped back. “If we’re going to leave, help me walk!”

She seethed but yanked you to your feet. She half dragged-half walked you out the door. She didn’t have free hands to shoot and you could tell she wanted you to take out anyone who came into view, even if she didn’t expressly say it.

All cameras were on. If she was going against Slade, she was stupid enough to do it with physical proof. Or maybe she was finally choosing a side. You didn’t put much thought into it, you could very well turn the corner and run into Slade. Who would use you ‘escaping’ as a convenient excuse for something? Maybe to try to convince your crew that you had died trying to escape and that you shot first and his crew was only protecting themselves. However, she dragged you down the hall and into an elevator. She hit the ‘G’ button and dropped you on your ass. Instead of going down, the elevator started shooting skyward. You grabbed onto the bump-rail around the elevator to pull yourself up.

“Why are we going up?” you demand, feeling dizzy the higher the elevator went.

“We’re underground,” she explained. “Now, we’ve gotta get to a car and get out of here. There will probably be a firefight, so be prepared for that.”

You waved the gun, “It wouldn’t be an escape if someone wasn’t trying to kill me.”

That nearly got a chuckle out of the woman, but she coughed and covered it. “I do have a request from you.”

How did you know that was coming? You didn’t say anything, but she took that as a ‘go ahead’.

“I’ll take you to Ryan, but you have to grant me immunity with your crew permanently. I don’t want to get there and you let Ryan kill me,” she said, straightening her back and lifting her chin. “You have to give me your word now, or I leave you in the elevator to rot.”

You glared at her. However, it was easy for Ryan to become a Fake again instead of a member of SAI. If he did? Well, then you had no control over him. Also, any of the Fakes could reasonably kill her. You nodded, “My crew will not kill you.”

“Or harm me in any way,” she added. “I know the art of deceit.”

“Or harm you.”

She reached into her jacket and pulled out a magazine and tossed it to you, “Good. You can replace the blanks with actual bullets now.”

You were…impressed. You hadn’t checked if they were live ammunition, just checked if the gun was loaded. You switched magazines, cleared the chamber, and loaded a new round. The doors finally opened and she grabbed your arm and strung it over her shoulders. She dragged you out of the elevator and hurriedly to one of the vehicles. She opened the passenger door and all but threw you inside. You righted yourself and buckled you in. Just as she slammed the door shut you heard a shout. Someone saw her.

She hurried to the other side and you ducked as someone shot through the window. Just a single shot, you sat up quickly and fired back. It caught the unsuspecting guard in the shoulder, and Atropos was in the car and throwing it into reverse before you could look around for the next guy. There was a burst of machine-gun fire, however, the car roared forwards and you heard the bullets hit only the back side of the vehicle. She tore out of the parking garage and up a long tunnel.

“Was that your idea of a firefight?” you asked, and she blinked in surprise.

“God no, I thought there’d be more there. Normally there is,” she said with a suspicious tone. “It’s late, they might not be as heavily manned.”

You let her have this one. If she was breaking you out for any other reason than Ryan likely getting himself killed, you’d ask her why the hell she didn’t do more preparation work. At least when Adam had broken you out of prison he had known the schedules of everything. He had just been unlucky that someone had seen one of the crew wheeling you out of the hall and towards the loading bay and had followed. The only reason the alarm had gone off at that time.  You still hoped this wasn’t some big elaborate plot.

Maybe you were bait for Ryan? Did they think he’d just come running to you in the middle of the street and stop shooting at the police who were trying to kill him? You sincerely doubted it, you’d cover his back and the two of you would move somewhere with cover. That was the obvious plan. Besides, you were willing to go against your promise to her and kill her if she betrayed you. You weren’t stupid, but you knew she wasn’t either. She wouldn’t provide you with the opportunity to kill her if she was going to betray you or Ryan.

The car got to the top of the tunnel, which was just protected by two guards and a simple raising barricade. It was down, and Atropos didn’t even hesitate to slam into it. She yanked hard on the wheel and the car spun in a complete circle, but she easily pulled out of the spin and shot down just as more bullets flew at the vehicle. You made a note of the location but stored the information away quickly as she weaved in and out of traffic. The difficult part would be getting to Ryan, then. The police would’ve barricaded the streets off, and sure, Atropos could go flying in the middle of a standoff, but the two of you were most likely to get shot the moment you entered. Especially with the speed that Atropos was driving.

You couldn’t walk too far, you knew that. So, how the hell were you supposed to get close enough to Ryan to explain the situation and get him out before the police shot him?

You chewed on your lip, worrying.

Atropos slowed down and pulled into an alley. She drove fast for the alley, but within a few moments, she stopped the car. You heard faint gunfire, almost nothing, but when Atropos opened the door it was louder. “Can you walk yet?” she demanded, “Cus I don’t think I can carry you up the stairs.”

You swore, and she got out and shut the door quietly and quickly. A few moments later she appeared by your door and swung it open. “Give me your leg,” she demanded, and you obeyed. She fashioned a leg brace out of a rusty pipe and some duct tape that she pulled out from the glove compartment. “Now, can you stand?”

Testing it out, you told her it would do. It’d be a pain to go upstairs, but you could walk. She grumbled and pulled out her own gun. “Let’s go, you in front.”

She guided you into the building. You heard police chatter and crouched over as much as you could with your stiff, straight leg. This was inconvenient as all fuck, but you had to get to Ryan. If he died because of a police gunshot, you’d never forgive him for being so stupid. You heard a policeman say something about hostages, and Atropos guided you to a far set of stairs. There were two police officers in riot gear standing at the bottom of the steps. Atropos whispered a plan into your ear, and you nodded. They were facing the stairs, obviously, Ryan was higher up somewhere.

There was an explosion on the street and the two men got a call for more assistance on the street. Atropos yanked you against the wall just before the men turned around. The two of you hurried up to the next floor, thankful for whatever caused the explosion.


	25. Insanity Builds

Bodies and bullet shells littered the hallways, so you knew for a fact he was on that floor. You picked your way over the bodies until you heard the sound of someone begging for their life quietly and praying. If Ryan was in there, you didn’t want to startle him so he accidentally shot you, and you didn’t want to lead him to someone if he heard you clomping around. So, you quietly peeked in through a door into the open room. There was a bunch of cubicles but you saw Ryan’s head over the top of them easily. The person was sobbing and begging for their life now.

He shot them point blank. The room was absolutely silent now.

“Vagabond,” you called out.

He froze. The gun lifted level with his face as he slowly spun to look over at the door.

He wasn’t wearing his mask. It was hard to tell in the dark when he was facing away from you, but it was almost shocking seeing his face in this setting. However, instead of his bare skin, he had painted his face to look like a skull.  He walked slowly over to you, his eyes searching your face slowly, and then sweeping down. He stopped when he saw your leg, and his head tilted. He said nothing, simply assessed the injury then continued forwards. The closer he got, the more detail you saw he put into the skull. It wasn’t his normal face paint which could be quickly applied, this was intricate. He wasn’t wearing his traditional black and blue leather jacket either, but a black leather jacket with fur about the neck.

He had planned for this to happen.

His fingers reached up and touched your cheek, they were slick and you ignored that he probably just smeared blood on your cheek. He leaned down and captured you in a hungry kiss. His teeth dug into your lip and his hand curled around to bury in your hair. He pulled away when you couldn’t breathe anymore and he stared down as you gulped for air. You noticed this close, that he was also wearing coloured contacts, bright yellow.

“Vagabond, please don’t do anything irrational,” Atropos spoke quietly, drawing your attention that the hand that wasn’t holding onto your head, was aiming the gun behind you at the woman. She said your name, “You promised me.”

“Promised what?” Vagabond hissed, “She can make promises, but I made none.”

“I freed her from Slade’s base on the condition that I got immunity from the crew,” Atropos responded, but you could hear her choosing her words and tone very carefully.

“How sweet of you,” Vagabond laughed, the sound sent a shiver down your spine. His hand left your head and he ducked down before you could stop him, he tossed you over his shoulder. He slowly walked around Atropos. “But you should know by now the Vagabond doesn’t work in any crew.”

You jammed your elbow into his lower back, he barely flinched. “Ryan,” you called out and he gave your leg a light squeeze where it was holding you from flipping completely over his shoulder.

A bright spotlight shone into the room and Ryan flicked his gun at Atropos. “Act like a hostage,” he hissed. You couldn’t see the woman, but she muttered under her breath. The police called loudly for the Vagabond to release the hostages and come out slowly with his hands up. Ryan simply backed up out of the room; a police officer had worked his way up to the floor.

“Stop!” the man called out. Ryan turned halfway towards him, you glanced over just as Ryan let loose two shots. The first hit the man’s face mask, and his head whipped back, the second got the guy in his now exposed neck. He crumpled immediately. An impressive shot…to anyone else. You gripped onto his jacket tightly and clamped your eyes shut.

“Put me down!” you demanded, wriggling in his grip. His fingers dug a bit harder.

“We’re going to the roof, you won’t be fast enough,” he called over his shoulder. “Atropos, you first,” he nodded to the woman and followed her towards the staircase.

“Why do we need to go to the roof fast?” you asked, “Just put me down!”

“Shush!”

You clamped your mouth shut as Atropos pushed the roof access door open. An alarm went throughout the building, and the three of you exited onto the roof. The police helicopter instantly swung it’s searchlight over, and the announcement came again. Ryan dropped you to the floor, not incredibly gently, but he was careful not to jostle your leg too much. He switched his gun to your head, but you saw his finger shifted from the trigger to resting along the barrel. A threat to you, but you knew he wouldn’t shoot.

A loud roar filled the air and a jet blew past, and quickly followed a huge explosion shook the building. You dove to the floor, covering your head. The helicopter swerved out of the way as a second jet came barreling through. You heard a sharp whistling and looked up just in time to see a rocket collide with the helicopter. It swirled before hitting the opposite building’s roof and crashing into the street below. Atropos looked over her shoulder in awe. Another helicopter came around a building and did a quick landing. Michael reloaded his RPG and hurried to the edge of the building. Gavin followed, carrying a bomb like a baby. He looked at Michael, they both grinned and Gavin chucked the bomb off the side of the building.

“What the hell is this?” you blurted out, but Ryan was already helping you to your feet. He made sure you kept your head down and hurried you over to the helicopter.

Another series of explosions shook the building. Los Santos would be paying for this destruction for years to come. The LSPD would suffer enough causalities they wouldn’t be able to crack down as hard on criminal activities for the longest time. A blessing and a curse, in your eyes, but right now? You didn’t care. Jack was in the pilot seat, calling for more cover fire from the jets. You wondered who was driving them. Geoff maybe, since he wasn’t there, but the other one? You didn’t bother asking yet; Ryan helped you into a seat and did your seatbelt up. Michael and Gavin took out two more helicopters heading over before hurrying back over.

Atropos was getting into the helicopter when Ryan held up a gun to her chest.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you now?” he hissed.

“She’s part of the plan!” Gavin smacked Ryan’s arm down, “Besides, we gotta go!”

Ryan’s lip curled in disgust but he grabbed onto a handle above him and allowed Atropos by him. She sat down as far away as she could, and Ryan stood blocking your view from her. The helicopter lurched up and swung around. Michael climbed into the front seat and you heard a machine gun turret beneath the helicopter going off. Spraying the streets below with bullets as the six of you made a hasty retreat from downtown Los Santos. You could barely hear anything, and once the heat died down, Ryan dropped down onto the seat beside you. He closed the side door to lessen the noise and handed you a pair of the helicopters headsets. You put it on and your head was filled with voices.

Geoff cheering and crowing that he hadn’t flown a jet in the longest time and how they were getting the police to chase them instead. Jeremy’s voice cheered back, saying that he hadn’t flown a jet like this before. They sounded like two kids who were just given new toys. You heard Jack instructing them to be careful because as dangerous the jets were to others; they were equally dangerous to the pilot if they weren’t paying attention.

“Fucking shit! Stop getting kidnapped!” Michael spoke up once he noticed that you had put the headset on, “This is the fiftieth time!”

“That’s it! I’m getting Kerry and Dan to surgically implant a GPS into your skull!” Gavin announced, shaking his head at you. “No one else has gotten kidnapped as much as you have!”

“It’s not my fault!” you shot back, then a flash of the car rolling burst into your mind. You swallowed thickly. “Adam! What happened to Adam? Is he okay? Did he…”

Ryan shook his head, “He’s fine, he’s back at the club overseeing everything. We’ll explain when we get back.”

You allowed yourself to relax slightly. Ryan began peeling the tape off your pants, mumbling about the damn pipe. You allowed your head to rest back against the helicopter seat, and before you knew it, even with all the noise, you fell asleep.


	26. Safe and Sound

Ryan carried you into your office, and the moment Adam saw you he threw his headset off and hurried over calling out your name. Ryan set you down, and you instantly collapsed, your legs refusing to hold the weight. You heard a litany of swears and worried exclamations. Adam pushed Ryan and Jeremy away when they attempted to help you up.

“In the cabinet there’s medications, grab me the ones I tell you,” he pointed at Jeremy, then had you lay on your back. He started feeling your hip. After so long of attending your physiotherapy appointments, he started asking questions and learning how to do certain things himself. “It’s partially dislocated.”

“You don’t say,” you mutter, and he sent you an exasperated look. “Just shove that sucker back in place.”

He sighed, then positioned your leg and with a quick and firm movement you felt a pop. Pain came with it but so did relief. He began to have you extend the leg slowly, telling Jeremy the names of the medications you needed. Ryan took over for Adam, helping you extend and then retract the foot. It hurt but you knew it was better to hurt a bit now to the longevity of your leg. You’d have a hell of a time moving them for the next couple weeks, and you’d be confined to a wheelchair - if you even had one anymore - but you’d work through it.

You took the medication when Adam doled it out for you.

“Caiti, can you grab her wheelchair?” he asked, “When she’s done her exercises she’ll need it.”

The woman nodded and hurried out of the room.

Geoff entered the room a moment later, he assessed the situation quickly, and having heard over the radio about your leg having a makeshift splint on it, he knew what was going on. “I’ll get Kerry and Dan to perform a physical on you tomorrow, assess any damage to your hip.”

You nod, and drank greedily from the water bottle that Meg offered you. She sat down and propped your head on her lap as you went through your excersizes with Ryan occasionally assisting quietly. It was weird, doing the motions with so many people in the room. Normally, you were alone or Adam was there. No one else. Especially not Atropos. The woman was watching the situation curiously, but wisely not saying anything and staying out of the way of everyone. Meg started to braid your hair, and you realized how exhausted you were. You forced yourself to stay awake as Caiti rolled the wheelchair into the room.

“What happened after the crash?” you asked, looking over to Adam. He looked guilty at the ground.

“I woke up in the hospital. I had multiple fractures in my leg, had to get surgery actually,” he patted his one thigh, you saw he still had an Aircast brace on his lower leg. “Got a pin in there keeping it together. The Aircast is because I tried to put too much weight on it too soon and rebroke one of the fractures in my lower leg. When I woke up, I asked about my friend who was in the accident with me. I feigned memory loss, and I think the nurses just thought you might’ve been a prostitute. No one knew anything, and since I didn’t know which ID you had with you, if you even had an ID, I couldn’t exactly ask for you by name. Eventually, a male nurse asked around and they figured out that you had sustained some pretty mortal injuries and were rushed to another hospital which had better emergency surgeons. I wasn’t released for a month and a half.”

Caiti spoke up next, “Since we didn’t know which ID you had, we asked after your most common used fake name. No one knew of any emergency patients with that name, and since we weren’t associated with that crash and we had no proof of who you were or our relationship to you, we couldn’t get any personal information. Adam was able to get the name of the hospital when he was leaving from the male nurse, and we rushed over there. When we got there? They had _no_ record of anyone coming in of your description who had been in a car accident with life threatening injuries, at that time by any paramedics.”

“That was when we freaked,” Adam admitted. “Before then it was just ‘okay, we’ll find her, we just have to think smart.’ Gavin hacked into every hospital on the island, and we did a search of all of the databases for patients entering that could be you. Further digging, and we couldn’t find you, anywhere.”

“It was actually Meg who figured something out first,” Gavin said proudly, “she looked up information about a car crash at that time. A woman had posted on nearly all her social media accounts about a young couple who had gotten into a car accident, and how the woman had been so adamant her boyfriend got treated first, even fighting with the paramedics when the wouldn’t go to him. A picture of the crash, and off to the side there was a picture of a guy. Which is all it took for me to find him.”

“We figured out it was Slade fairly quickly,” Geoff added. “Once we tracked his guy back to his crew, Slade contacted us. He sent us a video of you eating Jell-O and making your feet kind do,” he held his hands parallel to the floor and then moved one vertical and then switched back and forth. “He told us a bunch of different stories about why he had you. First it was he wanted to do some things without you in the way, then it was he wanted to break you, then it was he wanted to hurt us by keeping you out of the way, then it was this and that.”

“Which was when he started killing members of the crew,” Adam spat out, he crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s the worst part really…but he did other things too.”

“He destroyed one of our warehouses,” Geoff grunted, shaking his head, “Hacked into back accounts, we’ve had to move apartments…some people obviously talked to save their own asses, but it didn’t help them in the end. Never does. Better to die horribly than betray the people who care and love you.”

“Lindsay had to go into hiding,” Michael spat out. “Word got out to the police who she was, and we can’t risk her being noticed by a passerby. She’s in a safehouse up north. That bastard thinks he can get away with this shit.”

“Jon got arrested, and lost his job,” Caiti mentioned. “He was outed as well to the police, and they rushed the station and arrested him on live tv. We broke him out and he’s hiding out with Lindsay.”

You felt horrible, and sat up. Ryan stopped his assistance and Meg reached forwards and touched your shoulder.

“We didn’t know where Slade was until Atropos told us,” Meg explained quietly. “She said she could get in without suspicion and get you out.”

“So, why didn’t you guys provide backup? Why blow up the city?” you asked, sending the group slightly disappointed looks. At the end of the day it really didn’t matter, Los Santos had a huge budget for rebuilding infrastructure in such events. “That’s just unproductive.”

“I didn’t know what was going down, someone forgot to fill me in,” Ryan said, his voice quiet but had an edge to it. You didn’t bother asking him who didn’t tell him, you had a feeling none of them decided to clue him in. Just in case he decided to go in guns blazing after Atropos. You loved Ryan to death, but you also knew his anger sometimes got the best of him. Rational thought didn’t win out against anger. “Four months of being left in the dark about what was going on, I just…snapped. Once I started blowing shit up, the others came to my aid, and that was when they decided to fill me in. When I was surrounded by cops and couldn’t get away; to be there when Atropos pulled you out of that hole in the ground.”

You laced your fingers with his and squeezed. “Slade will pay for this.”

“I wonder how his head'll look like on a spike,” Ryan grumbled.


	27. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hahahah I'm horrible at sticking to an upload schedule

“He knows about the heists,” Atropos had told everyone. It made sense, if people gave up information so personal, they’d obviously talk about the heist. That would’ve been the first piece of information most of those who talked would’ve given. ‘Hey person, my boss is going to attack a bunch of your shit, if you let me go I’ll tell you what’. You were proud of the very first man who had been tortured, he never gave up anything. Not even your name, even when he was beaten, drowned, or cut. He was the kind of guy that would’ve grown quickly in the group, you might’ve even put him in the BTS crew.

The good news? Ryan wasn’t furious that you had given Atropos immunity with your crew. He said that if it wasn’t for her, they probably would still be searching for you. He wasn’t thrilled by the idea, and you could tell he still wanted to shove his fist through her chest whenever he saw her, but he didn’t act on his impulses. She was being a lot more cooperative and Ryan had admitted to you that she had apologized to him for their past. He said that he had too much to focus on to bother with her. You assumed that meant he wasn’t going to forgive her, but he’d at least put her death very low on his list.

The very bad news, you were down crew members, Lindsay and Jon were in hiding, and the plan had to be scrapped.

You gave up. You thrust all control of the plan into Geoff’s hands, who laughed giddily. For once, you didn’t want control. You just wanted to be pointed in the direction someone else wanted, and you wanted to take action. Not sit and worry about all the ways a plan was going to go wrong. Besides, you still couldn’t walk all that well. You were using a crutch to get around most of the time, on the really good day's nothing, on the very bad? Back into your wheelchair. You didn’t dislike the wheelchair, it helped you get around after all. You just disliked having to use it when you needed, or rather, wanted to take action.

Today? Today was a good day.

Not just because you could walk, but it was your date with Ryan.

Meg and Jack were talking in your living room as you zipped your dress up. You hadn’t gone on a date for the longest time and you were nervous, even though it was with Ryan. You just wanted it to go perfectly.

The dress still fit amazingly and was maroon, one of Ryan’s favourite colours. Meg had braided your hair, and you felt like a Viking warrior. Jack had attempted to help you accessorize, but really, when her version of fashion was god awful Hawaiian printed shirts, striped pants, and sometimes an elf Santa hat? You had politely turned her down, and allowed her to do your makeup instead after she begged to help get you ready. This was technically the first date you had ever been on that she knew about. She was probably more excited about it than you were.

You stared in the mirror.

You had gone through some body image issues when you were younger, you had struggled to keep weight on your body. When you had become a criminal, you had worked out and figured out how to keep weight on your body, but you still had issues some days. With your injuries, the scars rippling across your body, your body confidence had dropped again.

Tonight? Tonight you were a solid ten. If Ryan didn’t rip your dress off by the end of the night, you’d be shocked and disappointed.

When you stepped out of your room, you strutted. Posing and flipping your hair with a grin. Meg laughed and Jack catcalled. You grinned at the two of them. Meg made a lewd comment and Jack rolled her eyes, a grin still on her face as well. “You look gorgeous! When was the last time you dressed up like this? Three years?”

“I can’t remember,” you laughed. “It’s been too long.”

“Now, you tell that boy to keep his hands to himself,” Jack fake ordered, shaking a finger at you. “No hands sliding up that skirt!”

“I mean,” Meg gave a sly grin, “unless you decided to forgo panties, then definitely encourage those fingers to explore.”

You blushed hard at that and smacked her with your clutch. “I am a lady, Meg! I will not stand such dirty ideas! Who do you think I am?”

A knock on the door interrupted her attempt at a probably insulting come back and you tugged instantly at the hem of your skirt. Jack noticed the immediate restlessness and she reached over and squeezed your arm. “Why are you so nervous? He’s going to think you’re the most beautiful thing in the world, and he’s probably tripping over himself more than you are.”

You laughed at that, your nerves fading. “Thanks, Jack.”

She smiled warmly back at you, “Meg and I will keep your apartment warm for you. If you and Ryan are going to be…busy tonight, just let us know and we can vacate.”

Another knock, a bit more hesitant. Meg shooed you towards the door.

With a quick inhale, you opened the door and a bouquet was thrust into your face. You sputtered out a laugh before the flowers were lowered. Ryan smiled shyly at you, and then his mouth slid open as his eyes took you in. He was speechless, as his gaze trailed lower and then slid slowly back up. You shifted, and suddenly you wanted to pull him into your apartment and fuck him against the wall. You didn’t. Mainly because Jack and Meg were behind you in the living room and you wouldn’t subject anyone to that scene. Ryan cleared his throat finally.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his cheeks tinting pink.

“Why?” you asked and he gestured to his flowers.

“I brought you these flowers cus I thought they were beautiful…but they have nothing on you,” he complimented. “I don’t think I’ve seen such a breathtaking sight before, maybe you should give me CPR?”

You felt your face get immensely hot, and you started to giggle. He stepped forward and kissed your nose. “I think I’m the luckiest man in the world, my girlfriend is beautiful and a kick-ass woman. What have I done to deserve you?”

“Get a room!” Meg called and Ryan jumped backwards. You saw his hand go towards his jacket, but it stopped when he realized who spoke, relaxing.

“I mean,” you took the flowers from Ryan and turned back around. “This is my apartment.”

She grinned back at you. You looked over your shoulder at Ryan and mouthed an apology. “Let me just put these in some water and we can head out.”

“No rush, our reservation isn’t for another twenty minutes,” he replied and closed the door as you moved back into the apartment. You had to buy multiple vases at this point. Ryan showed his love with plants and flowers. You had more flower pots and vases scattered about your apartment than you had ever had in your life. It made the place smell lovely, and you always felt calmer at home now. It was probably the best sort of present that he could give you. He even helped you take care of them, insisted on it in fact. He came over and would help water all the different plants, moving them about your apartment until they got the light they needed.

“Let us know how it goes!” Meg called as you picked up your jacket. Ryan helped you into it and then held out his arm so you could pull on your heels without falling over. You made a positive noise.

“Have her home by twelve!” Jack teased as you opened the door. Ryan simply laughed.

It was a short ride to the restaurant, and they put you by the window looking over the ocean. It was beautiful, and probably one of the fanciest places he has ever taken you out on a date. Or anyone has taken you out on a date, really. Geoff not included, those weren’t dates, they were meetings.

You both ordered non-alcoholic beverages and quickly decided the meals before lapsing into comfortable silence. You stared out the window at the ocean, watching as the sun started to set. Ryan shifted in his seat and his foot bumped into your leg, you glanced over at him, but he was looking out at the water as well.

He was wearing a suit. It fit him incredibly well, and you noticed belatedly that his shirt colour matched your dress. You wondered if Meg had something to do with that. His hair was pulled back into his usual pony-tail, but you wondered idly if he wanted to do something different but couldn’t decide what would be appropriate for a fancy restaurant. Long hair wasn’t exactly seen as ‘professional’ after all. His face held such a peace to it, his features smooth and calm. One hand rested on the table and you placed yours over his. “You’re handsome,” you blurted out when he glanced over at you. His eyebrows rose slightly as if thinking you were teasing him, but then his face broke into a pleased embarrassed smile.

“That was blunt,” he teased, turning his hand over and tracing a circle on the side of your hand. “Thank you, though.”

The waiter returned with your drinks and promised that your food would be there shortly before disappearing.

“I love you,” Ryan murmured, eyes drinking in your face. “I…have never felt this way towards anyone in my life.”

“I…haven’t either,” you admitted quietly. “I can’t imagine…what my life would be like if we hadn’t met.”

“Probably a lot safer,” he teased, squeezing your hand, “but a lot more boring.”

You laughed at that, “I’m sure that aspect wouldn’t have changed. I might’ve been shot more if it wasn’t for the Fakes.”

Before Ryan could say anything else, the waiter returned with a bottle of champagne. Ryan looked surprised and confused, and you shared that emotion. He held up his hand before the man could uncork the bottle, “Sorry, but I think you’re confusing us with someone else. We didn’t order that.”

“I did,” a voice interrupted, and then took the bottle from the waiter, “For the lovely couple.” The waiter hesitated but Slade jerked his chin to the side. “Don’t worry, I can pour their drinks, go attend your other tables.”

The man hesitated once again before walking away, clearly confused.

You stiffened and felt Ryan’s hand tighten around yours. Neither of you moved. Neither of you were in disguise, you both had weapons, but you couldn’t pull them out and cause a scene. Not unless Slade did something first. If he did, the two of you could simply say you were defending yourself against a madman. If not? You were both fucked. The police would finally have a description of the Vagabond, and you weren’t going to be the reason they got that.

Slade poured two glasses of champagne and placed it in the ice bucket the waiter had brought over with the champagne. “Vagabond, Lady SAI. This is such a cute moment. You, look lovely, of course,” Slade nodded towards you. He clapped Ryan on the shoulder, you squeezed Ryan’s hand. Hard. Ryan didn’t move an inch. His eyes were looking around at the other patrons, nobody noticed the tension at your table. “I bet you're not wearing any underwear, ready for tonight,” Slade sneered at you with a laugh. “Vagabond, you are one lucky man. Look at her. That hatred and fire in her eyes? Now that is hot.”

“What do you want?” you hissed.

“Disband the Fakes, and get out of Los Santos. Or the next time I see you,” he placed a hand just off centre of his chest. His suit jacket flattened a bit more and you saw the bump of a gun beneath it. “Well, let’s just say that they won’t be able to recognize either of your bodies.”

You didn’t say anything. Slade just grinned happily between the two of you. “Enjoy the champagne.”

He left without another word.

The rest of the night was tense, the romantic calm it had before dissipated. You were furious and felt like crying. It had been so perfect before he showed up. The food tasted bland and you had to take the rest home in a doggy bag because your stomach just didn’t want food. You got into Ryan’s car, he held the door open for you and made sure you were tucked inside before walking around to the other side. Once he was in, he slammed his fists repeatedly into the steering wheel. You placed a hand on his arm and he took a deep breath.

“This fucker has to go,” he snarled. “He ruined our date.”

“That’s why he needs to go?” you teased, trying to diffuse the tension. You wouldn’t let him completely ruin the evening. Ryan gave you a dry look and then put the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking spot faster than he probably should’ve. You sat in silence for the rest of the car ride, and when he finally pulled over, you opened your mouth to say something but closed it. Ryan turned off the engine before climbing out of the car. He walked around to your side and opened the door. “Why are we at the club?” you asked as he helped you out of the car.

“We need to let the others know,” he murmured, holding your hand. You followed him in and up to the office. The others were there already and looked surprised when the two of you entered. It had just been over an hour since the two of you had left your apartment, and you had told everyone they weren’t allowed to contact either of you unless it was an emergency for the rest of the night. To show up out of the blue after receiving an order like that? No wonder they were all on edge.

“What happened?” Jack asked, turning from the planning.

“Slade showed up,” Ryan snarled. “We need to speed up the planning. He needs to die. Now.”

“We need to-” Geoff started but Ryan shook his head.

“Now. Geoff. Not in a week, not in a month. Now.”

You didn’t disagree with his statements, but you walked over. “We need to be smart, but we need to be fast. We know where Slade’s base is, we can find personal information on him there. Computer records, phone records, maybe even where he lives. We break back in, get what we can, and get out. Then we hit him where he least expects it.”

“Simple enough plan,” Geoff muttered. “We were already planning on planting explosives in his base and blowing it up. Without his resources, he’ll be fucked to do much of anything.”

“Good,” you nodded and ignored your earlier thought of not wanting to be involved in the planning. You dove full force into it. Atropos supplied information on the layout of the base, and the rest of you went off of that. It went on for a few hours, well into the night.

A lull in the planning happened at about two in the morning. People took breaks for drinks, to walk their stiff legs out, or to head off to their own apartments for some much-needed sleep. You didn’t want to sleep until a solid plan had been formed. You didn’t even know if you could stand sleeping knowing that Slade had just shown up on your date. He knew where the two of you would be, you didn’t believe it was a coincidence. There were too many restaurants in Los Santos for that to just happen. For him to even notice and recognize you both? That was suspicious on its own. Sure, he would recognize you. He saw you for four months in his base. If he didn’t recognize you, you’d wonder if he had memory loss. For him to recognize and address Ryan first? That meant he somehow knew what Ryan looked like, even if he didn’t know Ryan’s actual name.

You looked over at your boyfriend at that point, he had been silent for a good fifteen minutes where before he had been interjecting with his own ideas. Usually, very dramatic or grand ideas which were shot down quickly.

That was when you noticed something off about him. His pupils were dilated, his body covered with a sheen of sweat. His hands were twitching and he jumped at every noise.

“Ryan?” you spoke softly, he jumped like you had fired a shotgun. That drew everyone’s attention. “You okay?” you asked, reaching forwards. Atropos swore quietly.

“He’s drugged.”

You retracted your hand almost immediately.

A drugged Vagabond?

Never had you felt such bone-numbing terror in your life. From Atropos’ stories? A drugged Vagabond was a volatile man.

Geoff didn’t have the same qualms about touching Ryan. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and quicker than you could think Ryan had flipped Geoff onto the coffee table and plunged a knife into the older man’s shoulder. The others jumped back, hands twitching towards their weapons. You could see the indecision and fear in their eyes. Sure, they could shoot Ryan, but would he stop then? Or would he keep going until they killed him? They needed him uninjured if he was going to help with the plans, but he also could kill someone before they could stop them.

You held your hands up, “Ryan,” you said in your most soothing, calm, and quiet voice you could. “Hey, you’re okay.”

His eyes flicked to you, his hands were shaking. He had taken off his jacket earlier and you had a clear view of his gun. You made no move to look at it, however. You took a slow step towards him, and he simply straightened. His chest was heaving and you knew his heart was probably beating a mile a minute. You took another step and he didn’t move.

“There we go,” you murmur, “nothing’s wrong, you’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Another step.

Jeremy took a step thinking Ryan wasn’t paying attention, you wanted to yell at him. Ryan whirled around, but you reached out and touched his arm. He looked at you and then held his arm out in front of you, but his attention went back to Jeremy. “Stay the fuck away,” he slurred at Jeremy. His mouth might not be functioning a hundred percent but from his agility throwing Geoff onto the ground? His skills weren’t impaired.

You moved closer, and with Ryan’s attention away from you, you slowly unclipped his holster. Jeremy started talking, keeping his voice quiet and calm too. Ryan started telling him to shut the fuck up, and you managed to get his gun halfway out before he noticed. He whirled around, grabbing your wrist, but his movement pulled the gun free. You dropped the gun to your other hand and hit the button to eject the magazine before throwing the gun away. He stared at you in shock.

“You…” his grip tightened. “Why did you do that, they’ll hurt you. They’ll kill us.”

“No,” you whispered, reaching up, “We’re okay-”

“She did this,” Ryan snarled. “She isn’t helping-”

Jeremy jumped on Ryan’s back, wrapping his arm around his throat. Ryan let go of you, his hands clawing at the grip around his neck. Jeremy would not let go, and the two of them dropped hard to the floor. You ignored their scuffle and dropped down beside Geoff. He had wisely stayed still and quiet until that moment. You helped him get to his feet and pushed him towards Jack and Caiti. You mouthed for them to deal with Geoff and turned around.

Ryan’s grip on Jeremy’s arm slackened and his eyes rolled back into his head. The moment Ryan stopped fighting, Jeremy released him, and you had Adam cuff Ryan.

You nearly fainted in relief.


	28. Fighting the Worst Fight

Kerry had kept Ryan under until he was sure that the man wouldn’t wake up and try to murder someone again. You had stayed by his side the entire time, holding onto his hand. Geoff had gotten his shoulder stitched up. Ryan’s aim hadn’t been as good as you initially thought. The knife just sliced Geoff’s skin rather than stabbed into his muscle. Just stitches and a sling to help keep the shoulder from moving too much until the stitches could heal the wound.

To be completely honest? You never felt so stressed in your life.

You need to protect everyone. You needed to make plans. You needed to do physio and go to therapy. You needed to worry about Ryan. You needed to keep composed.

Yet, you were so ready to just snap.

You hated it.

When Ryan finally woke up, you felt relieved. You squeezed his hand and allowed him to come out of the haze he was feeling before trying to speak to him.

“How’re you feeling?” you murmur leaning forwards in your chair. He looked over at you before sitting up. He yanked off the heart monitor and the IV, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Ryan,” your voice rose. “Get back in the bed.”

“Where is she?” he demanded, he staggered a second, but less from the drugs that had been affecting him hours ago, and more from getting up so fast. You stood up, moving around the end of the bed. He didn’t let you stop him, simply shoved past you and headed for the door. “I’ll find her.”

You grabbed his arm, but he was resolute and shook you off. “Ryan, wait! Where’s who? Where are you going?” The others were back for another day of planning. Their attention snapped over immediately as Ryan slammed open the door to the office. It cracked off the wall, and you saw hands going to weapons. You saw not one ounce of trust in any of their eyes. They were ready to stop him from hurting anyone else, and he didn’t exactly seem that sane of mind anymore. His eyes swept over the group before they fell on Atropos.

“You,” he seethed, storming towards her. Atropos jumped to her feet and put her chair in between the two of them. You darted in front of him, placing a hand on his chest, and holding a hand up to the others who weren’t sure whether they wanted to bother protecting the woman. “You did this to me. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.”

“You don’t know that,” you retorted, attempting to keep your voice even. “It could’ve been Slade, he was at the restaurant last night. He could’ve drugged your food or your drink.”

“Don’t defend her!” Ryan roared at you, you jumped back, startled at the fierceness in his voice. “She doesn’t deserve that.”

“I’m not,” you snapped, feeling the stress bubbling up. “I’m asking you to think rationally! You can’t just go around accusing people of drugging you.”

“She’s done it before, what is stopping her from doing it again?” Ryan demanded, throwing a hand towards her. “If she’s not out of here in ten minutes. I am killing her.”

“Ryan-” Atropos started, and he lunged forwards. You moved and blocked him, grabbing his shirt in your fists. In his anger, he was stronger than you, but you were furious as well. You managed to shove him backward, sending him stumbling.

“Stop this!” you shouted, “I will not have fighting in my office!”

“Why does she deserve your protection? What has she ever done in her whole fucking life that warrants it? She’s nothing. She’s a piece of shit who just wants to be high and drag others down with her. I won’t let her drag this crew down with her!” he snarled, and then grabbed your wrists and shoved you backward. You stumbled, hitting the chair and falling. Everyone jumped up, but you were faster.

“She saved me!” You got to your feet, “Without her, I’d still be sitting in a hospital bed in serious pain.”

“I would’ve found you!” His face was red with rage, “I would’ve razed this whole city to the ground to find you.”

“That is the point! You have got to control your anger. You can’t go around just killing people you don’t like or because you feel like it! That is not who you are!”

His chest was heaving, and you saw his fists clench. He turned around, stalked away and then walked back over to you. He spun you around to face Atropos, and you heard Jack scream. A loud bang.

Your ear rang, and you felt something splatter against your face.

Atropos crumpled to the ground.

You smelt gunpowder.

You smelt metal.

Ryan leaned forward, his lips brushing against your other ear. “That is exactly who I am.”

No one moved.

The ringing stopped, and Ryan let go of you. You heard the heavy clunk of a gun dropping to the floor.

You felt your body shaking as you stared at the woman. You raised your hand, it shook violently as you wiped at your face.

Your fingers came away bloody.

No one said anything.

You slowly turned around, Ryan was still staring at you with fury and resentment.

Every ounce of emotion you had bottled up in the past couple of months came pouring out. Your fist slammed into his nose hard enough you felt the bone break, and you banged your knee into his chest when he doubled over. You would’ve continued hitting him if it wasn’t for the hands that pulled you away.

Ryan looked up nose bleeding. His face complete confusion and hurt.

Your chest was heaving, and your vision started blurring with tears. “I- We don’t need a serial killer!” you screamed at him. “Why can’t you just listen to me once in your goddamn life?”

Jack attempted to hug you, but you shoved her off you. You pulled away from the others holding you back. You scrubbed roughly at your face, feeling her blood on your face sent disgust and horror through your body. You looked over at the woman’s body, Michael was attempting to cover it up, but you called out to him. Your voice like the crack of the whip. He stopped, and you turned to look at Ryan. “You will clean this office, I don’t want any evidence of this ever happening. I want a black light to be able to pick through this room and not find a splatter of blood. Fucking. Spotless. If you ever step out of line like that again?”

You didn’t finish the threat…you couldn’t. Bile rose in your throat as you tasted the metallic bitterness of blood. Instead, you turned and fled the room. No one followed you. You headed to the bathroom and released your stomach contents into the toilet.

The image of her face burned in the back of your eyelids. Each time you blinked you felt another round of nausea and horror.

Did she deserve to die? You thought so. Did she deserve to die like that? No.

Cold blooded murder.

You retched until your throat burned and your stomach clenched painfully. Tears streaming down your face as your fingers shook and your mind reeled.

Memory after memory of deaths flashed in your mind. Atropos. All those dozens of crew members. Ray.

Ray.

God. You pushed away from the toilet, leaning against the wall and pulling your legs to your chest.

You could almost overlay Atropos,’ and Ray’s deaths and they were so similar. Shot through the mouth. You dug your nails into your scalp and tried to squeeze your eyes shut. Praying and hoping that it would help. Nothing did. You shoved off the wall and force yourself to stand. Looking in the mirror was worse. Blood and tears mingled together. You saw the utter horror and fear on your face, and the tears came harder, and soon you were unable to stand.

You allowed yourself to curl up on the floor in front of the sink and just cry. You cried until you were exhausted. Cried and cried until you were out of tears, and then some. Your lungs burned, eyes stung, and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a bed and never come out. Why did this happen? Would it have ever happened if you hadn’t met Ryan that day in the coffee shop? Would you still be living a relatively safe criminal life? Would you be crying on a bathroom floor covered in someone else's blood?

The door to the bathroom eventually cracked open, Jack slipped in and immediately closed and locked the door. She turned, glancing around the bathroom before seeing you. Absolute fury flashed across her face, her fist clenching, but then sadness overlapped it. She sat down beside you on the floor, not saying anything. Just simply…placed her arm around your shoulders. You slumped against her, tucking your head under her chin and sobbed. She held you, stroking your hair and occasionally murmuring comforting nothings.

The blood was dried and flaking when she finally spoke, merely murmuring your name. You nodded meekly, tears no longer coming.

“I know…what happened was awful,” she spoke softly, “but…why are you crying for her?”

“I’m no-I’m not…I-” you swallowed and fell silent. She let you take your time, not forcing you to speak, and you were grateful for that. You had no idea how long passed before you felt the thickness in your throat fade enough for you to speak. “I just…” you clamped your eyes together and felt your emotions starting to surge again. “I’m just so tired…of all of this bullshit. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of death. I’m scared.”

Jack’s body stiffened slightly, “Of…Ryan?”

You didn’t know. You said as much, and she nodded slowly.

“He’d never hurt you…”

“Pushing me over?” you asked bitterly.

She had no response, and the two of you fell silent.

Eventually, she had you stand up and got you to the shower. She stood outside the shower waiting for you, there for you in case you needed it. Normally? You’d be embarrassed and horrified by someone basically babysitting you like that. Instead? You had never been so grateful that she was there.

You couldn’t look Ryan in the eye after that, couldn’t even acknowledge his existence. Every time he was in the room, you just remembered Atropos’ death. Him purposefully turning you around to witness it. You couldn’t justify what he did. Couldn’t understand it.

Others started commenting on how he was reverting. Stoic, quiet, and just cruel at points. You had overheard a fight between Geoff and Ryan, and it summed up everyone’s feelings. No one was upset with who he killed, they were furious with how it went down. Ryan didn’t truly understand why anyone was bothered with it, and you had left after he had said that. You didn’t want to hear any more.

But…

You missed him. As fucked up as that was.

Without him there, your stresses were building up again. No matter who you talked to, they just didn’t help take your mind off the reality of the world like Ryan could. Even as the plan to deal with Slade was finalized, you felt your body settle into a constant state of anxiety. Your chest always slightly tight, you found yourself breathing erratically. Your health was declining quietly, and you soon found yourself confined to your wheelchair more and more often.

Finally, you went to his apartment, on a day when you could use your legs.

You entered without knocking but called out timidly.

No response. He was home, you saw his car in his parking spot, and the lights were on. You almost backed out and fled, but you straightened you back and strengthened your resolve. You couldn’t run away…sure what he did was fucked up, but you needed to talk to him about it. Whatever the outcome was, that was what would happen. You refused to allow your relationship to just dissolve after years.

He was watering his plants, but his back was stiff and his movements almost mechanic. He was ignoring you.

“Ryan,” your voice was weak and quiet, and you hated it. Nothing. You took a step towards him. “Ryan, please…we need to talk about this.”

Still, nothing.

“Please,” your voice squeaked out. Your eyes were tearing up. “Please, just talk to me.”

He turned around, placing the watering can on the table gently. He walked over, and reached up, brushing a piece of your hair from your face. “You don’t need a serial killer.”

Without letting you respond, he turned, picked up a duffle bag and left the apartment. The door closed quietly.

You hurried after him, but by the time you reached him, he was pulling out of his spot and peeling out of the parking lot.


	29. Heist!

Ryan had been gone for two weeks. If it weren’t for the fact that he left with luggage, you would’ve assumed Slade had gotten to him. He hadn’t responded to any of your messages or calls, so you stopped. Instead, you threw yourself full tilt into the plan. Anything to fill the numbness that was filling your body.

Geoff asked if you wanted to go to Lindsay and Jon, to hide out and let everyone else go through with the plan. You apparently deserved a break from everything, after all. That, you didn’t agree with.

You cry yourself to sleep, and get up and put on a face. Just as much of a mask as Ryan used to become the Vagabond.

On the day of the mission, you were exhausted but so full of caffeine that your leg wouldn’t stop bouncing.

It was pretty simple but incredibly dangerous. The crew would storm Slade’s base. Through the parking garage, and clear each floor until they found Slade’s office. Atropos had given the location of the office, but Geoff was seriously questioning if she was entirely telling the truth. So, they would take her information with a grain of salt. Everyone just had to assume that she had been lying, and go in blind. You were nervous about that, but you trusted the Fakes well enough. They were more or less bred for this sort of thing.

At least if the plan went well, this would all be over.

You just wished Lindsay could be with you. She was safer where she was.

Michael, Gavin, and Jeremy would take the lead into the base. They were tasked with clearing the rooms, causing general destruction, and planting explosives. Once the crew got information or killed Slade, whichever was first, you wanted the base to be taken out. No arguments were given, and Team Nice Dynamite was positively ecstatic that they got to teach Slade how to set up explosives.

You and Meg would enter behind the others, giving backup support, and taking anything of value. You weren’t going to destroy Slade’s base with any valuables. Sure, it might be for personal reasons you wanted to take Slade out, but your crew couldn’t lose valuable resources just because you were mad.

Finally, Geoff and Jack would provide backup. Once you all got to Slade’s office or killed Slade, they would head back to the surface to prepare evac and ward off any security of LSPD that came in response to the break-in. You hoped the LSPD wouldn’t get involved, but who knew what would happen.

Initially, it was supposed to be Michael and Gavin together, and Jeremy and Ryan were supposed to be back up, while Geoff and Jack waited to evac the team. No one commented on Ryan’s departure more than shifting around team duties.

“This is our first heist in the longest time,” Meg commented from beside you in the van. Jack was the one driving, as per usual. The van was armoured, and you were glad for that. Made you felt safer.

“Our last heist was the one the Fakes interrupted,” you reminded everyone. “Wonder what it would’ve been like if we had actually finished cracking open that vault and getting money out before the alarms went off. I can’t believe the heist was ruined cus someone was waving their gun around.”

“Oy!” Gavin squeaked, “I was not!”

Meg laughed, “You so were! Oh! Our lovely leader here punched the helicopter in anger!”

“I punched the seat, lightly,” you clarified and elbowed her. “Let’s just hope this doesn’t end with me getting shot.”

“More explosions would be nice,” Gavin said with an almost dreamy voice.

“Let’s get out of here safe, okay boy?” Meg asked, extending her leg and bumping her foot against his leg. He smiled warmly at her.

“Right, love.”

You felt the pain of jealousy, and you looked towards the front. “ETA, Jack?”

“Get your guns ready, one minute,” she responded, glancing in the rearview mirror.

The mood of the vehicle dropped immediately to a more sombre one. You checked your rifle. It had been forever since you held one. Probably at the last heist as well. You had killed Diamond with a pistol, and every time you had shot a bullet since then had been with one as well. Nothing bigger than that. God. Its weight was familiar but yet so foreign. You wondered if you’d even be a good shot with it, but you squashed those thoughts down. You weren’t there to kill. Unless Slade showed his stupid fucking face. Then you’d pump it full of machine gun bullets with no ounce of remorse.

The vehicle smashed through the barrier and roared down the tunnel until it breached the parking garage. Jack turned the wheel sharply, and the car spun to a stop. Instantly, the Fakes burst from the van, and you heard nothing but firing. They took out every security guard in the garage before you or Meg had jumped out behind them. They were already forming up and heading towards the stairs. Jeremy blended in so well with the Fakes, it was hard to remember that he had originally moved that in sync with the Bombshells.

An alarm didn’t go off until the third floor down. Your bag was half full already with information and precious items that you wondered if you should hold off on getting anything more unless you really thought it valuable. Once the alarm went off, everyone’s focus shifted. People would be more alert, which means everyone had to be more alert. You couldn’t have someone coming up behind you because you were searching through a stack of papers for something of value.

After that, it became a simple sweep of each floor. Every room.

Jeremy kicked in a door at the end of a hallway as Jack and Geoff took out some security guards who ran around a corner behind the group. He called out to you and Gavin. He found it. Gavin left Michael to finish placing critical explosives in hidden niches of a room and darted into the room. It was a huge office, decorated to the high heavens and it was imposing. There was no way this was anyone’s but Slade’s office. Gavin jumped into the chair and booted up the computer. He hooked up his laptop and got to work. You had hoped there would be something physical to dig through, files or something, but there was nothing. You did take the time to knock over some decorative and expensive looking doo-dads just out of spite.

 Jack and Geoff let the group know they were heading back to the surface and departed. Michael and Jeremy guarded the door, and Meg helped Gavin. You stalked back and forth in the room until you were told it was distracting by Gavin. You stood beside Michael at the door and waited.

Adam’s voice filtered in through your earpiece, “The alarm went off in the building, but I don’t know who it alerted. LSPD is not responding to any break in alarms in that area. Maybe it’s just alerting a private security company?”

He and Caiti were back at the club with the other BTS crew as support.

“It is,” Caiti confirmed. “Two security vans are responding. It’s a private security company, but…”

“They aren’t worth worrying about,” Adam’s voice crackled in and out, the depth was tampering with the connection. “Geoff and Jack, you two should be able to take them out. Remember, no explosions until the evac is completed. We don’t want to risk alerting LSPD until we’re out of there.”

“Got it,” Jack’s voice responded, “We’re in the van now. I’m going to reposition it, so the door opens to the stairs. Once you guys are done, get up here, and we’ll get out.”

“Slade isn’t here,” Gavin called out and then waved you over. You hurried over, peering over his shoulder at the screen. “His last log in was ten days ago, and he hasn’t read any emails or responded to them in nine days. I’m cloning his computer, we’ve got at least five minutes before it’s completed. We’ll have everything he has.”

Meg pointed out an email, “Open that.”

He did as she asked, and the three of you read it. Slade had been worried that someone was following him, he had become paranoid. Whoever it was he was corresponding with just waved off his suspicions, but when he got no response. The person attempted to connect again, yesterday. Nothing.

“Can you access the security feed from here?” you asked him. “Or is there somewhere else we can get that?”

Gavin’s mouse flew across the screen, and a few different applications popped up. He closed them all. “Nope, but that should be easy to access remotely. Lindsay could do it from the safehouse.”

“Can’t she be tracked if she accesses it?” you question, and he shrugged.

“Depends on if anyone can be bothered,” he replied, attention on the laptop.

Michael nodded from his spot beside the door, “No one has come to shoot at us since those guards Geoff and Jack took out.”

You bite your lip. “Who has Slade so scared he hasn’t been to his own base?”

“Not even base,” Gavin opened another program and taped the screen. “He hasn’t been to the base in nearly twelve days. He remotely checked his email.”

A security log of everyone who entered the base. A lot more high tech than anything the club had, and you were sure as hell the penthouse, both the Fakes and the Bombshells lofts didn’t have that level of technology. It impressed you, if you ever got a crew big enough for that, you would love to implement that. Make it look more like a legitimate company.

Meg shook her head, “Only a handful of crew members have entered in the past couple of days. All those men we’ve taken out? That’s all of them. No one else is coming.”

Gavin closed his laptop with a snap, unplugging all the chords and shoving them into a bag. “Done!”

“We’re heading up!” you called out to Geoff and Jack. Michael and Gavin littered a bunch of explosions around the room and then hurried out after you, Meg, and Jeremy. This time, the five of you took the elevator up. If everyone was already dead? There’d be no surprises; still, you kept your gun ready in case the elevator slowed and opened to a room full of assholes. You got to the parking garage where two new additions to the garage were left empty. A handful of bodies littered around the vehicles. You jumped into the back of the van, and once everyone was in, Jack slammed on the gas. The van flew up the tunnel and out onto the street, the moment it cleared the tunnel, Michael, and Gavin, each hit a remote detonator, and the ground shook. There was a muted boom, and the building that was over top began to crumble down.

It was such a weird feeling. The heist was successful, but no one cheered. Everyone sat in the van, confused and quiet.

“If he isn’t there, where the hell is he?” you asked, looking at the faces of your crew.

No one had the answer.


	30. Trust Me

It had been a month since the heist. Slade was nowhere to be seen. You were sure that after the attack on his base, he’d retaliate. He didn’t. Not even a threatening message. Nothing. Everyone was on edge, but wanting to relax so much. Without a body, were they really safe? Or would he come back when they least expected it? You joined in their skepticism. Which meant sleepless nights until Adam found out. He attempted to get you a prescription for insomnia medication and you were through with being pumped full of medication to feel normal. It was truly the first time you fought with Adam. You refused to take anything to help you sleep, but you apologized to Adam. He was looking out for you, and he was right with half his arguments. Your medication was your normal, without it? You would be in pain, you would be depressed, you wouldn’t be…alive. It helped you, and you yelled at him for it. Blamed him for it. When you told him you would rather have stayed in the water and drowned, he pulled you into a hug. The first time he had ever hugged you like that. It was enough to make you break down and cry.

You did that a lot lately.

You hated it.

Eventually, you just started to exercise before sleeping, mostly with Jeremy. He knew the instant your mind started wandering to darker subjects. He could snap you out of a dark spot faster than anything. You refused to think of who else had been like that. You hadn’t seen him for almost two months. You didn’t want to think of where he went or what he was doing. It was better to focus on the people who were with you now. Jeremy helped reinforce that thinking, and you were grateful for that.

If Slade stayed away forever, then you would allow yourself to relax. You would give the reins of the crew to Adam to do with it as he pleased and you would retire. You would give Slade a year to reappear. If he didn’t? You wanted…no, you needed a break from all this. If you stayed, you would just continue to spiral until you hit the bottom. You didn’t want to hit the bottom. You couldn’t hit the bottom.

You stared up at the ceiling of your office, you had taken to sleeping on the couch. Which, honestly, factored into why you couldn’t fall asleep easily or have a good sleep once you did fall asleep. You just…didn’t want to sleep in your bed. You felt safer here, and you knew the others were getting worried about you. You were getting worried about yourself. Adam didn’t even know that you had stopped going to your therapy sessions. They just didn’t help anymore.

With an angry sigh, you sat up sharply. If you couldn’t sleep, you’d go for a jog. You changed into a pair of leggings and a sweater and grabbed a set of keys to one of the cars left in the garage. You drove out to the Sisyphus Theater past Vinewood Hills. It was pitch black out, but you got out of the car, making sure you had a gun and a knife before putting in a single earbud. Music filtered in through your ears and you crossed the road and started jogging up the hill heading west. You followed the path and then jogged along another road all the way up to the Vinewood sign.

You were sweating and breathing heavily. The good thing about your hard exercising? Your leg was getting used to being under such stress. If you had gone jogging and trained hand-to-hand with Jeremy more, you probably would’ve worked out most of your issues with your leg. It would’ve still had bad days, you wouldn’t discredit the fact that the muscle and joint was just so fucked up it would never be a hundred percent good again. It just…might’ve not gotten as bad as it had at points.

With a deep inhale, you took in the sight of Los Santos in front of you and then plopped on your ass in the grass.

The music still poured through, and you felt the cool dampness of an earlier rain seeping through your leggings. You’d get cold, and you still had to jog back down to the car, but for now? You took in the sight in front of you.

This was the site of your first date with Ryan.

You felt calm and collected and allowed yourself to lay down in the grass and look up at the stars. Your breathing slowed, and heartbeat evened out. You felt close to Ryan, even if he wasn’t actually there, and this time? There were no tears.

You simply accepted the situation, staring up at the twinkling stars. Going further north, you would’ve been able to see every visible star in the night sky. This close to Los Santos, the light pollution blocked out the bright pinpricks.

A voice broke the still calm, you rolled onto your stomach and sprung to your feet. You belatedly realized the person simply called out your name, and you stared over at the last person you expected to see.

He was sitting beneath the V, on the opposite end of the sign. You wondered how long he had been there, and if he had just worked up the nerve to speak to you. He had a diet coke beside him, and a closed book resting beside that. The Vinewood Sign’s light would’ve provided enough light to read by, but why would he come all this way just to read?

You expected it was similar to why you came all the way out here.

“Ryan,” you murmur, wishing you hadn’t stood up now. You just stood there awkwardly, staring at the man you love. You didn’t know where the two of you stood.

Neither of you spoke after that, and you debated just running back to your car. The moment you thought that you dropped back down and looked away from him. A heartbeat of silence, then he got up, collected his things. You thought for a moment he was going to leave, instead, he came closer until he stood in arms reach from you. “Can I…” he started, you nodded slightly and he sat down beside you. Enough distance between the two of you that you didn’t touch, but you wanted him to close the gap. Even if it was just a brush of an arm.

“I miss you,” you said, so quietly that if it wasn’t for the dead quiet of the world around the two of you, you were sure he would’ve missed it. He didn’t respond at first, and your stomach was doing flips.

“I figured out the truth,” Ryan spoke finally, staring out at the city. “Atropos was never working for us. Slade figured out who she was, and ordered her to either kill me, have me imprisoned, or seduce me so I would turn on the crew. Apparently, he considered me the biggest threat. She told him about the heist, she told him when you left the club, she told him everything. When we got back from the restaurant, she gave me a coke when we were planning, and I drank it. I didn’t trust her at all every other moment, but that one fucking time, I trusted her and…” he trailed off, fingers clutching the book tightly until his knuckles went white. “I am not sorry for killing her, I’m not. Don’t ask me to apologize for that, because I never will. I…I will…I need to and I want to apologize for doing…for doing that to you. I-I shouldn’t…I should’ve never done that. I won’t even make excuses. It was unforgivable. I’d never be so deplorable as to ask your forgiveness either.”

Your eyes trailed over the planes of his face, his jaw was tight, and he refused to look at you. You knew he wanted to, his eyes kept flicking in your direction before snapping back towards the city.

“I-” you started but he shook his head.

“Ever since she got back, I let her get inside my head. I’ve been reverting back to my persona. I can’t seem to think in a way that I think, everything is just ‘What do people expect the Vagabond to do?’ and I do it without considering the consequences. Shooting Atropos, leaving you. I just act. If I had just talked to you about everything, if I had told you what I was going through instead of trying to keep you away in an inane attempt to protect you? I’m selfish. You were suffering, and I cleaned up the corpse, and I left you to deal with the emotional mess.”

He fell silent, and you turned your gaze towards the city. You finally murmured in understanding, “That’s why you said that I don’t need a serial killer? Not trying to throw words back into my face…”

“I would never do that,” he reached to you, but his hand fell before he could touch your leg. “You deserve better than me.”

“Don’t tell me what I deserve,” you snapped, but you really didn’t feel the anger you were trying to convey. “Just…talk to me. How do you know that she worked solely for Slade?”

At first, he didn’t say anything. Then, the stood up. “Come with me.”

You didn’t move, just looked at him as he offered his hand. “I…don’t know if I can trust you.”

It was true, and from the look he gave you, it just confirmed something to him. His hand swung, useless, back to his side. “Just…trust me one more time, please.”

You stood up, arms crossing over your chest. “Just once.”


End file.
